


Life, Death and Magic: Moonspell Reimagined

by cheshire_carroll



Series: Moonspell Series [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Life and Death: Twilight Reimagined, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Fem!Draco Malfoy, Gen, Genderbend, Genderswap, Life and Death- Twilight Reimagined, M/M, fem!Edward Cullen, fem!Harry Potter - Freeform, fem!Lord Voldemort, fem!Ron Weasley, fem!Tom Riddle, male!Bella Swan, male!Hermione Granger - Freeform, male!Luna Lovegood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 02:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 49,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10912251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshire_carroll/pseuds/cheshire_carroll
Summary: "I didn't know how it had happened, or why, or where the bloody hell my survival instinct had gone, but I could no longer deny it; for some bizarre, unknowable and yet undeniable reason, I was falling for a vampire."~Death Eaters have taken over Wizarding Britain and Muggleborn Beau Swan, now a fugitive on the run from the new government, has fled to America, to the dreary town of Forks where his mother is the chief of police.Unable to use his magic and in constant fear of being found and thrown in Azkaban— or much, much worse— when Beau realises a coven of vampires has made Forks their home, he decides he really just cannot catch a break. Edythe Cullen, on the other hand, is intrigued by the strange new student, and Beau finds himself drawn to her in a way he thinks probably doesn't bode well for staying alive long enough to turn seventeen. Edythe might just be worth it, though.~Set during 'Life and Death: Twilight Reimagined' and 'The Deathly Hallows'.





	1. Prologue & Character Guide

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Moonspell](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7979092) by [cheshire_carroll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshire_carroll/pseuds/cheshire_carroll). 



**PROLOGUE:**

_"I didn't know how it had happened, or why, or where the bloody hell my survival instinct had gone, but I could no longer deny it; for some bizarre, unknowable and yet undeniable reason, I was falling for a vampire."_

~

Death Eaters have taken over Wizarding Britain and Muggleborn Beau Swan, now a fugitive on the run from the new government, has fled to America, to the dreary town of Forks where his mother is the chief of police.

Unable to use his magic and in constant fear of being found and thrown in Azkaban— or much, much worse— when Beau realises a coven of vampires has made Forks their home, he decides he really just cannot catch a break. Edythe Cullen, on the other hand, is intrigued by the strange new student, and Beau finds himself drawn to her in a way he thinks probably doesn't bode well for staying alive long enough to turn seventeen. Edythe might just be worth it, though.

~

Set during 'Life and Death: Twilight Reimagined' and 'The Deathly Hallows'.

Note: In this story, Beau is 16 when he first arrives in Forks, not 17, and The Deathly Hallows is set at the same time as Life and Death (which is 2005).

 

~

~

 

**CHARACTER GUIDE:**

_Note: remembering the name-changes isn't that important- a number of them won't actually be mentioned and when they do it'll be fairly obvious who they are. Still, this is here if you need/want it:_

 

The Swans:

Charlie Swan — Charlize Swan

Renée Dwyer née Higgenbotham — Reese Higgenbotham

Isabella "Bella" Swan — Beaufort "Beau" Swan

~

The Lovegoods:

Selene Lovegood — Sol Lovegood

Xenophilius Lovegood — Xena Lovegood

Luna Lovegood — Lyric Lovegood

~

The Cullens:

Carlisle Cullen — Christina Cullen

Esme Cullen — Ernest Cullen

Edward Cullen — Edythe Cullen

Rosalie Cullen — Royal Cullen

Emmett Cullen — Eleanor Cullen

Jasper Cullen — Judith "Jude" Cullen

Alice Cullen — Archie Cullen

~

The Denalis:

Tanya Denali — Timur Denali

Irina Denali — Ivan Denali

Kate Denali — Kirill Denali

Eleazar Denali — Elena Denali

Carmen Denali — Camilo Denali

~

The Blacks:

Billy Black — Bonnie Black

Jacob Black — Julia "Jules" Black

~

The Weasleys:

Arthur Weasley — Anne Weasley

Molly Weasley — Maxwell Weasley

William "Bill" Weasley — Billie Weasley

Charlie Weasley — Charlene Weasley

Percy Weasley — Priscilla Weasley

Fred Weasley — Frederica Weasley

George Weasley — Georgina Weasley

Ronald Weasley — Ronda Weasley

Ginevra "Ginny" Weasley — Gordan "Gordy" Weasley

~

The Riddles & Gaunts:

Thomas Riddle — Theresa Riddle

Mary Riddle — Martin Riddle

Tom Riddle Sr — Pammy Gaunt née Riddle

Marvolo Gaunt — Marva Gaunt

Morfin Gaunt — Morgaine Gaunt

Merope Gaunt — Mortimus Gaunt

Tom Riddle Junior/Lord Voldemort — Pam Riddle Junior/Lady Valdis

 _Note_ : _I feel like a female Voldemort needs a bit of a backstory, so here it is:_

Mortimus Gaunt (Merope's counterpart) was raised by his oppressive heritage and purity obsessed mother and just as nutty sister in the Gaunt shack in Little Hangleton. He was treated as terribly by his mother and sister as his counterpart was by her father and brother. Mortimus fell in love with Pam 'Pammy' Riddle (Tom Riddle Sr's counterpart), who was as lovely and graceful as he imagined the sort of proper Pureblood witch his mother always raved about would be. Of course, she barely even knew he existed, so he used a love potion on her and Pammy married him. 

When Pammy fell pregnant, Mortimus stopped using the love potion. A horrified Pammy then ran from him, but she was too ashamed to go back to her family (in the early 1900's a woman leaving her husband was frowned on, and a pregnant, unmarried woman even more so- to the class obsessed Riddles this sort of scandal would likely have had them disowning Pammy entirely). Pammy eventually gave birth at Wool's Orphanage and gave her newborn daughter (Voldemort's counterpart) her maiden name, Riddle, because she wanted nothing to do with Mortimus. She died before choosing a first name, so Mr. Cole named the baby after its mother, in the hope that Pam would grow up looking at least half as lovely as her mother, Pammy. 

From there, Pam Riddle grew up in the orphanage the same way Tom Riddle did, except as a girl she was treated even worse. She became smart, ruthless, sadistic and filled with hatred for her dead mother and absent father, the other orphans and the orphanage caretakers (which later led to a hatred of muggles), her lowly station in life, and how men in particular treated her. She vowed to become powerful enough that everyone would bend to her will, and embraced the Dark Arts with a passion.

When she was sixteen she visited Little Hangleton and found her father, who had returned home to lick his wounds after Pammy ran off, and aunt (her grandmother was in Azkaban). Pam killed her father in a vicious rage and then obliviated and imperiused her aunt to take the fall for both Mortimus's death, and the murders of her grandparents, Martin and Theresa Riddle. She used the killing curse on Theresa Riddle, but burned Martin Riddle alive and used his death to create her first Horcrux. 

After that she pretty much followed Voldemort's path, except after Petra Pettigrew used the ritual for her rebirth, Pam used another ritual (probably one that involved draining the blood of newborns, pulling the wings off fairies, and cutting out the still-beating hearts of unicorn foals) to make herself look better- because if a boy Voldemort was prideful, then a girl Voldemort would be twice so, and she would NOT accept not having a nose.

And that, my dear readers, is the story of Lady Valdis, the female Lord Voldemort.

~

Hogwarts Students:

Harry Potter — Harriet "Harri" Potter

Hermione Granger — Hermes Granger

Luna Lovegood — Lyric Lovegood

Draco Malfoy — Diona Malfoy

Vincent Crabbe — Vivian Crabbe

Gregory Goyle — Gertrude Goyle

Blaise Zabini — Blair Zabini

Sue Li — Shaun Li

Isobel MacDougal — Irvine MacDougal

Morag MacDougal — Monroe MacDougal

Lisa Turpin — Linus Turpin

Neville Longbottom — Neve Longbottom

Lee Jordan — LeeAnne Jordan

Angelina Johnson — Angel Johnson

Alicia Spinnet — Alistair Spinnet

Katie Bell — Kay Bell

Jeremy Stretton — Jenny Stretton

Cho Chang — Chen Chang

Cedric Diggory — Cedrella Diggory

_ Note- not Hogwarts students, but from the same time: _

Fleur Delacour — Florent Delacour

Gabrielle Delacour — Gabriel Delacour

Viktor Krum — Viktoria Krum

~

Hogwarts Staff:

Albus Dumbledore — Alba Dumbledore

Minerva McGonagall — Montgomery "Monty" McGonagall

Severus Snape — Severina Snape

Horace Slughorn — Hortense Slughorn

Argus Filch — Agnes Filch

Filius Flitwick — Felicia Flitwick

Sybill Trelawney — Samuel Trelawney

Pomona Sprout — Priam Sprout

Poppy Pomfrey — Pippin Pomfrey

Quirinus Quirrell — Quinna Quirrell

Gilderoy Lockhart — Glinda Lockhart

Remus Lupin — Remy Lupin

Alastor Moody — Alana Moody

Dolores Umbridge — Dorus Umbridge

~

Forks High School:

Jessica Stanley — Jeremy Stanley

Lauren Mallory — Logan Mallory

Mike Newton — McKayla Newton

Tyler Crowley — Taylor Crowley

Eric Yorkie — Erica Yorkie

Ben Cheney — Becca Cheney

 

Mr. Norman Greene — Mrs. Norma Greene (principal)

Mr. Banner — Mrs. Banner (biology)

Mr. Vanner — Ms. Vanner (mathematics)

Mr. Mason — Ms. Mason (English)

Shelly Cope — Mr. Cope (secretary)

Coach Clapp — still Coach Clapp (but female)

~

Quiluetes:

Sam Uley — Samantha Uley

Emily Young — Emery Young

Jared Cameron — Jade Cameron

Paul Lahote — Paula Lahote

Embry Call — Ember Call

Quil Ateara V — Qillaq Ateara V

Kim Murphy — Ken Murphy

~

Various vampires:

James — Joss

Victoria — Victor

Laurent — Lauraine

Riley Biers — Rylee Biers

Bree Tanner — Brody Tanner

Diego — Dina

Freaky Fred — Freaky Frieda

Peter — Piper

Charlotte — Chet

~

Volturi:

Sulpicia

Marcus

Athenodora

Aro (deceased)

Caius (deceased)

Didyme (deceased)

NOTES: So, in 'Life and Death' there's no genderbending of the Volturi. I like the alternate pathway taken, and decided to keep it the way Meyer wrote it, and this is the ' _Life and Death: Twilight Reimagined_ ' explanation for the Volturi coven:

In order to prevent Marcus from leaving the coven, Aro killed his sister, Didyme, Marcus's mate. In the Twilight series he got away with the murder and his ploy worked, but in ' _Life and Death: Twilight Reimagined_ ' his mate, Sulpicia, witnessed the murder and exposed his crime to Marcus. Before he was executed, though, Sulpicia had a servant named Mele take Aro's power and claimed it for herself in order for the coven to function efficiently. Once his power was given to her, Sulpicia found out that Caius was in on Didyme's demise as well and he was executed too. She has since ruled the world of vampires alongside Marcus and Athenodora.

~

Marauder Era:

James Potter — Jaclyn Potter

Remus Lupin — Remy Lupin

Peter Pettigrew — Petra Pettigrew

Sirius Black — Stella Black

Lily Potter née Evans — Leaf Potter

Alice (Longbottom) — Allen (Longbottom)

Frank Longbottom — Frances Longbottom

Severus Snape — Severina Snape

Regulus Black — Regina Black

Lucius Malfoy — Lucida Malfoy

Narcissa Malfoy née Black — Narcissus Malfoy

Bellatrix Lestrange née Black — Braxton Lestrange

Evan Rosier — Evanna Rosier

Rabastan Lestrange — Rafaela Lestrange

Rodolphus Lestrange — Rosamond Lestrange

_The not quite Marauder Era witches and wizards :_

Barty Crouch Jr — Betty Crouch Jr

Kingsley Shacklebolt — Kimberly Shacklebolt

Aberforth Dumbledore — Aberdine Dumbledore "Abbie"

Amelia Bones — Abraham Bones

Andromeda Tonks née Black — Aloysius Tonks

Theodore "Ted" Tonks — Tabitha "Tabby" Tonks

Nymphadora Tonks — Napoleon Tonks


	2. Chapter One:

**CHAPTER ONE:**

There were seven of us, huddled in the Hogs Head pub. The owner, Abbie– well, her name wasn't actually Abbie, it was Aberdine, but she'd gruffly told us to never call her that– was scowling as she wiped an empty cup with a rag that was just making it dirtier in my opinion.

I could sympathize with her wanting to be called Abbie– I hated my name too. For some reason my parents had decided to call me Beaufort, which I don't think was fashionable even when it was common. Anyone who didn't call me Beau or Swan got hexed with bat bogeys.

Not that I thought I'd be able to magic up a decent bogey right now, even if I tried– I was exhausted, thanks to both extreme stress and the fact I'd been up for nearly twenty four hours straight, and I really just wanted to go to sleep, but we weren't free yet. We wouldn't be until the sun started to rise and the curfew charm lifted so Abbie could apparate us away.

I was the oldest there. All the other Muggleborns my age and older had had the sense not to return to Hogwarts and had already gone on the run with their families. I'd gone back to Hogwarts, though, because that's where my family were, and I desperately hadn't wanted to be separated from them.

Not my blood family– no, it was the fact that I didn't have a drop magical blood in me except for my own that was the whole reason I was in this... _situation_.

Yesterday morning I'd received a summons at breakfast– as had the six other muggleborns at Hogwarts.

It wasn't a very long summons, just a few sentences as well as a date and time. I'd only really paid attention to one part:

_Beaufort Swan, you are being summoned to appear before the Muggle-Born Registration Commission._

That's when I'd known, my heart sinking somewhere long past my stomach, that I'd have to run.

Of course that was easier said then done when the Headmistress of the school was a Death Eater, as were two of the professors. The castle that had always been my home, my sanctuary, had turned into a prison from which I couldn't escape.

I'd gone through the day in a daze until my grim-faced Head of Year, Felicia Flitwick, had pulled me to the side after class, supposedly to tell me off for accidentally turning my partner purple instead of the frog on my desk (not that Lyric had minded) because I'd been so distracted while we were practicing our colour-changing charms. Instead of lecturing me, though, she'd slipped me a piece of parchment.

_Pack your trunk. House elves will move it to my quarters. Meet me there at 11.45pm._

I don't think I can accurately describe the sheer scope of the relief I felt reading those words– or the dread when my best friend, Lyric Lovegood, said he wouldn't come with me. I'd begged him, pleaded with him– I'd even cried, but he hadn't budged, too afraid that they'd hurt his mother if he disappeared with me. And I could understand that– Xena was practically my mother too, but I'd still had to try.

Lyric would be safe, though, I tried to reassure myself. He was a Pureblood– and so was my other best friend, Gordy Weasley. They would be safe. I was the one in danger–  I was the _Muggleborn_.

Abbie slammed the cup down on the counter of the bar with enough force that all of us jumped. "Two minutes." She said, looking across at us with her piercing blue eyes. Her long white hair was pulled out of her face, into a loose braid, and her expression was grim. "Who's first?"

I stayed silent, knowing I'd be last to go. I didn't mind though– not when I was sitting among terrified looking eleven, twelve and thirteen year olds. I was only a few months off seventeen.

Only one of them was a fellow Ravenclaw– I recognized her as a second year. She'd started crying at the table yesterday when she received her summons. Quietly, of course– drawing attention to yourself was not something you wanted when you were in the same room as just one of the Carrows, let alone _both_. Within days they'd earned themselves a reputation for discipline.

The other professors were doing their best to protect the students, though– like helping us escape. It had been a combined effort, requiring the efforts of three of the four Heads of Houses to get all of us safely out of Hogwarts before the Ministry could come for us.

I'd gone to Professor Flitwick's office at 11.45pm, like she'd directed, where she'd shrunk my trunk and the trunk of the second year Ravenclaw Muggleborn who had already been waiting in her office when I'd arrived. She'd then hurried us down to the statue hiding the secret passageway that led out to Honeydukes.

The Head of Gryffindor, Montgomery McGonagall, and Head of Hufflepuff, Priam Sprout, were also waiting there, with the five other Muggleborns. Flitwick and McGonagall together took down the enchantments blocking the secret passageway and the seven of us ran like the hounds of hell were nipping on our heels– which they may as well have been.

Sally Honeyduke was waiting at the otherside, and she'd applied a disillusionment charm to all of us before leading us from her store to the Hogs Head, where we'd all been waiting since, under Abbie's watchful eye, for the curfew charm to be lifted so that we could be apparated away.

When Abbie vanished with the youngest Muggleborn, a little Hufflepuff first year, I felt the tension rocket up inside me. I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough I could taste blood in my mouth, and the tension I felt only continued to rise when Abbie appeared back to take the next student, and then the next. I was a mess of nerves by the time her thin, wiry hand grabbed my shoulder, her long nails digging in hard enough to make me wince slightly. "Where to?" she asked briskly.

"Nearest airport." I said, and she snorted.

"Furthest one away it is." She said.

"Wouldn't they look there first, though?" I protested. She laughed, and I could still hear the rough sound of it as she twisted on the spot, apparating us away from Hogsmeade, away from Hogwarts.

I didn't recognize the big airport in the distance and looked up at her unhappily. She rolled her eyes at me. "Calm down, boy, you're not important enough for them to think things through that well." She said. "Death Eaters are mostly idiots. The Carrows certainly are– they'll check the closest airports first. Get on a plane, go back to America, and don't forget that even when you're overseas, the Trace will still pick up on any magic you use." I shuddered at her warning.

"I thought international apparation was impossible," I said, not bothering to ask how she knew I'd be going to America– my accent was a giveaway. Abbie laughed again.

"You're a thinker." She looked approving. "Good. That'll keep you alive longer. Just because you can't apparate directly from Britain to America, kid, doesn't mean a powerful enough witch or wizard couldn't make a number of smaller apparations that will get them there. It'll take longer, and it'll take more energy, but it's still possible. Listen kid," she looked seriously at me, and even as worried and afraid as I was, I still couldn't help but notice that her piercing blue eyes looked oddly familiar. "If you, for whatever reason, activate the Trace, you'll have five minutes, six at the most, to get as far away from wherever the hell you are as possible. Understand?"

"Yeah," I nodded, swallowing, "and thank you. Really." Abbie snorted.

"Don't thank me yet, kid. You're still not out of Britain."

"I was being optimistic– you should try it some time." I said before I could stop myself. Abbie didn't seem offended though, just shook her head.

"Kids." She muttered, but there was a hint of fondness in her eyes as she reached over and ruffled my hair. "Don't die."

"I'll do my best. Can't make any promises though." I said, and yes, that was definitely fondness. "Please don't get in trouble for helping us." I said, because I didn't even want to _think_ about what might happen to her if the Death Eaters found out she helped us get away.

"I'll do my best. Can't make any promises though." Abbie grinned, and it was my turn to roll my eyes. All too soon her face turned serious again. "Good luck, kid." She said, quietly, and I swallowed past my suddenly blocked up throat and nodded at her.

And then she was gone, disappearing with a quiet pop.

I exhaled shakily, and looked around. I was in what I was fairly certain was the long-term car park area of the airport– I was still too far away from the actual main building to know which airport I was at, so I started the long trek to the building in the distance.

The sound of the planes taking off was painfully loud, but it helped to drown out my thoughts. Focusing on a specific goal helped too, and I was relieved that I'd had the foresight to put my passport, as well as my wallet, in my pocket instead of my trunk, which was now the size of a marble and would be staying that size for the next seventy-two hours.

Entering the airport, as I disappeared into the crowd of muggles I immediately felt a huge weight lift from my shoulders. In my jeans, runners and ordinary knitted jumper, I was very forgettable; just one more face in a sea of faces.

I actually felt like I might just survive this after all.

-

I ran into my first obstacle when I learned that buying an international plane ticket as a minor was actually not possible.

At this point, having had to find the right floor, gate, counter, etc., I was so exhausted that when some official or other said they'd need to get into contact with a parent or guardian, I gave them my mother's number and pretty much sat there in a haze as I tried not to fall asleep while upright.

It took hours for everything to be sorted out, various relevant authorities both in Britain, wherever this was, as well in America all trying to coordinate. I didn't even have a good explanation as to how I'd found myself stranded in a different country when records showed I'd never left America in the first place, but I mumbled something about my best friend and boats and they seemed to have better things to do then keep asking for explanations.

By the time everything was coordinated with the relevant American authorities, I'd been awake for nearly thirty-two hours. At least they had me on a plane that was leaving in under and hour and as I had no visible luggage with me other then my passport, wallet and wand (which I only just got through security, as _apparently_ it could be considered a weapon. I'd pointed out that I could use a pen to poke someone's eye out just as easily as with my 'stick' and that it was very important to me, and they'd finally reluctantly let it on) I was able to board the plane quickly, and as soon as I'd buckled myself in to my seat I basically passed out. 

Not even the sound or sensation of the plane taking off dragged me from my much-needed sleep and the next time I opened my eyes it was because the woman sitting next to me was poking me with her sharp elbow. I would have been much more upset about being dragged from Morpheus's sweet grasp if it weren't for the fact that the reason she was waking me up was because the plane had landed, and I was left quietly stunned that everything had actually worked out- I'd escaped Britain alive, right under the Carrows' noses.

I was officially in America.


	3. Chapter Two:

**CHAPTER TWO:**

Up until I was eleven years old, I lived with my father in Florida. Reese Higgenbotham was an indecisive man, but when his grandparents passed away they left him enough money that he could afford to be. We'd lived in five different houses at that point, not including Forks, our latest one in Phoenix, Arizona.

Forks, the place of my birth and where my mother lived and worked as chief of police, was a sore subject for my father. He'd hated living there and had moved us away when I was only two years old. I suppose it could be considered strange that he was the one who got custody of me in the divorce, except it just... wasn't. My parents hadn't been in love, not really- my mother, Charlize Swan, hadn't even been married to Reese when I was born, which was why I had her surname, though they did marry a month later- and the fact she'd kept her maiden name was probably an early warning sign. Reese had been the one who stayed home to raise me while Charlize worked, so when he packed his bags, it was just natural for him to pack my things too.

I'd been content living with my dad– I loved him, he loved me; everyone was mostly happy. And then the representative from the American Ministry of Magic had knocked on our door, and everything changed.

To say that my dad wasn't a fan of the existence magic would be an understatement– so would saying that he wasn't pleased when I decided that I wanted to learn how to use the magic inside me. When attempting to change my mind didn't work, he turned to the old 'out of sight, out of mind' adage. There was a magic school in Oregon that the Ministry representative had told us about– the Pacific Institute of Sorcery and Thaumaturgy– that was a day school for boys I would have qualified for. Reese, however, had decided to send me off to a boarding school instead. In Scotland.

I'm not going to lie– that hurt. Of course, meeting Lyric eventually made it all worth it, but that didn't mean I didn't miss my dad. And then, when I was twelve and came back home for the summer holidays, Reese was living with a new girlfriend, a much younger woman named Phyllis who I hadn't known existed until that point.

Reese had ignored me to the point that I was actually glad to flee to Forks for my obligatory two weeks spent with my mother. Who had known nothing about the whole 'my son is a wizard' thing because Reese had never told her– and I hadn't realized he'd never told her. Believe me, that had been a _very_ awkward conversation to have. Charlize took it well, though. And gloomy-weathered Forks had been a welcome relief from the blistering heat of Phoenix– Britain had ruined me for Florida.

After returning to Phoenix, I spent five more miserable days with my dad and then when Lyric wrote and invited me to stay at his house I left and I've barely spent more then a week a year with Reese since, spending the holidays either at Hogwarts, with Lyric, or, later on, with Charlize.

I missed my dad desperately those first few years, but when it got to the point that I realized I was exchanging more letters with Charlize then with him, I knew it wasn't going to get any better, and just... gave up. It didn't stop it from hurting– it still does hurt– but when you don't have any expectations of people, they can't let you down.

-

It was raining when I stepped off the plane. It wasn't any sort of omen, just highly inevitable. Forks existed under a near-constant cover of clouds, and it rained here more than any other place in the United States of America.

Charlize was waiting for me with her police cruiser. In my head I desperately added up my savings, which were depressingly low following my last trip to Sweden with Lyric and Xena (we were searching for proof of the existence of the crumple-horned snorckack– I feel it goes without saying we were unsuccessful), and came to the miserable conclusion that I couldn't afford buying a car. Which meant I was going to be stuck driving around town in a car with red and blue lights on top. Nothing slows down traffic like a cop.

I stumbled into Charlize's awkward, one-armed hug. We patted each other's shoulders, slightly embarrassed, and then stepped back. I looked nothing like my mom– my dad, though, before my eleventh birthday, used to joke that one day I'd be able to use him as a shaving mirror. His chin was pointier then mine, and his lips fuller, but other then that, I understood where he was coming from. Our eyes in particular were the exact same shape and pale blue color.

"It's good to see you, Beau," Charlize said, smiling lightly at me. I could see the worry in her eyes, and very purposefully did not address it.

It had only been around three months since I'd last seen her, near the start of the Hogwarts summer holidays, but it felt like a small eternity.

"You too, mom." I responded, and she smiled again.

"Ready to head off?"

"Very ready to collapse on my bed." I told her, trying to stop myself from yawning too obviously. Despite my rest on the plane, I was already looking forward to a horizontal surface to collapse on.

I blamed my tiredness for when my foot caught on the lip of the exit door, and I bit back a curse as I accidentally elbowed some guy in my effort to reclaim my balance.

I'd been a clumsy kid when I was younger, but navigating Hogwarts had gone a long way to fixing that. The castle was not a friendly place to those who struggled with their equilibrium, and in true sink or swim fashion I'd learned how to sprint across flat surfaces without tripping before I'd even learnt to walk them. I hadn't accidentally tripped into someone for years now, and it was actually quite embarrassing.

"Sorry about that." I apologized, very genuinely. The guy I'd crashed into wasn't much older than me and he was shorter, but he stepped up to my chest with his chin raised high. I could see tattoos on both sides of his neck. A small woman with hair dyed solid black  and wearing sticky-looking red lipstick stared menacingly at me from his other side.

"Sorry?" she repeated, like my apology had been offensive somehow.

"Well, yes," I said, not intimidated. After surviving not one, but _two_ life or death battles against Death Eaters, classes with the Carrows– hell, classes with _Snape_ – and seeing the Dark Lady herself in the flesh, these muggles didn't exactly rate on my frightening scale anymore, no matter how hard they scowled.

Before the two muggles could try and make some sort of scene, Charlize cleared her throat, causing them both to register the fact she was wearing a police uniform for the first time. My mother didn't even have to say anything– she just looked at the guy, who backed up a half-step and suddenly seemed a lot younger, and then the girl, whose sticky red lips settled into a pout. Without another word, they ducked around me and headed into the tiny terminal.

Charlize and I both shrugged at the same time, and didn't speak again until we were strapped in her cruiser and on our way.

"I found a good car for you, really cheap," she said. Relief flooded me.

"I'm going to build an altar in your honor," I told her, and she laughed.

"Don't get too excited, kid– it's not exactly a Ferrari. Bonnie Black, from down on the reservation, she's in a wheelchair now so she offered me her old truck at a good price. It's a Chevy, the engine's had a lot of work done, so it's only a few years old, but the actual truck was made in the early sixties– or late fifties."

"I hope you know I won't be able to fix anything that breaks," I felt needed to be put out there, "or afford a mechanic." Charlize laughed again.

"Really, Beau, the thing runs great. They don't build them like that anymore."

"The thing," I mused, out loud. "It has possibilities... as a nickname, at the very least. How cheap is cheap?"

"Er," Charlize looked a bit embarrassed, her cheeks pinkening. "I kind of already bought it for you. It was going to be a present for your seventeenth birthday– I know that's an important one for, you know, wizards."

I looked over at her with wide eyes. "A _temple_ ," I told her, "not just an altar, I'm going to build you a whole bloody temple, and proclaim myself the very first believer and priest of the goddess among us mere humans that you are."

Charlize looked over at me, fondly. Reese had always rolled his eyes when I was a 'drama queen', which was hypocritical of him– not that I'd ever mention that– but Charlize always seemed either genuinely amused or fond. "I've missed you, Beau." She said warmly and there was a lump in my throat I had to swallow past before I could speak again.

"I've missed you too, mom."

Both of us feeling a touch awkward about our not-so customary display of emotion, Charlize turned on the radio and I looked out the window.

The surroundings were actually pretty neat. Forks, despite the rain, was a pretty place– everything was very green: the trees were covered in moss, both the trunks and the branches, the ground blanketed with ferns. Even the air had turned green by the time it filtered down through the leaves. Lyric would love it here– would blabber on about how it was the perfect breeding ground for the crown faced hornswoggles, and I'd nod and hmm and uh-huh and pretend to remember exactly which issue of the Quibbler those had been mentioned in.

The reason I'd gone back to Hogwarts, despite the massive risk, was because that's where Lyric had been– Gordy too. And now they were still locked up there; in the school run by Death Eaters and out of my reach. I had no way to contact them, to know that they were safe, and frankly, that was terrifying.

Despite the suspicious way my eyes had started watering, we made it to Charlize's without me bursting into unmanly tears. She still lived in the small, two-bedroom house that she and my father had bought in the early days of their marriage. Those were the only kind of days their marriage had—the early ones. I used to think that dad was the lucky one, to get away from Forks. Now I was pretty sure mom was the lucky one, to get away from him.

Charlize had to park on the street, instead of in the driveway, because in the place where her cruiser normally parked was my new—well, new to me—truck. It was a faded red color, with big, curvy fenders and a rounded cab.

And I loved it. I wasn't really a car guy, so I was kind of surprised by my own reaction. I mean, I didn't even know if it would run, but I could see myself in it. Plus, it was one of those solid iron monsters that never gets damaged—the kind you see at the scene of an accident, paint unscratched, surrounded by the pieces of the foreign car it had just destroyed.

"It's bloody brilliant." I told Charlize, who looked pleased.

"You really think so?"

"Look at it!" I gestured, a wide smile on my face. "I'm going to be freaking invincible in that!" Charlize suddenly looked a lot less sure.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," she said, but I shook my head.

"Nope– no take backs." I said, firmly. "The Thing is mine now."

"Try not to make me have to arrest you, at least." She sighed, and I nodded very seriously at her.

"I solemnly swear."

"That really doesn't make me feel better." She said, but she fished a set of keys from her pocket and handed them to me. I recognized the key to the house, and assumed the other, bulkier key was for The Thing.

We both knew better then to wait for a break in the rain to make a run for the house, so we were both shaking the water from our hair as we stepped inside.

My trunk was still marble sized, so it only took a single trip to get all my things up the stairs. I placed the miniature trunk on the middle of the floor of my room and changed my clothes, pulling on a pair of sweat pants and one of my favorite t-shirts, a Monty Python one, that I'd left in the wardrobe from the summer holidays.

My bedroom faced west, over the front yard, and had belonged to me since I was born. The wooden floor, the light blue walls, the peaked ceiling, the faded blue-and-white checked curtains around the window—these were all a part of my childhood. The only changes Charlize had ever made were switching the crib for a bed and adding a desk as I grew. The desk held a secondhand computer, with the phone line for the modem stapled along the floor to the nearest phone jack. The rocking chair from my baby days was still in the corner.

There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which I shared with Charlize, but she wasn't the sort to leave her make-up and stuff everywhere, so it wasn't a bad thing– at Hogwarts I'd shared a bathroom with three other boys, and even though none of us were very messy, we weren't particularly neat either.

I was genuinely fond of my dorm mates. Lyric, of course, was a given– he was my best friend, and sure he was a total oddball, but he was bloody awesome, so that was that.

My two other dorm mates were Irvine MacDougal and Shaun Li. Irvine was a true Scotsman– proud, loud and passionate; he was sharp-tongued and quick to anger, but as loyal as a Hufflepuff. Shaun was nearly his exact opposite in temperament; slight and timid with gentle eyes and a kind smile, I don't think I've ever heard him raise his voice. He spoke very little English in our first year, but Irvine had been more then happy to take him under his wing.

Outside of my dorm mates, my friendship group had definitely been on the smaller side– and by that I meant it had consisted of one other person, a Gryffindor; Gordon 'Gordy' Weasley, but over the years it had grown to include Gordy's older sister, Ronda, and her two best friends, as well as another older Gryffindor in Ronda's year, Neve Longbottom.

Gordy was the quintessential Gryffindor; stupidly brave, fiery temper and fierce as a nesting dragon when it came to protecting his friends. We– Lyric and I– had befriended Gordy in our second year after he hexed a group of older Gryffindors with the bat bogey curse his twin sisters had taught him. He'd then taught it to both of us. He and his family lived only a ten minute walk from Lyric's house and, seeing as I practically lived at Lyric's house over the holidays, we visited each other often.

And like I said, thanks to the time spent around Gordy, especially during the holidays, I also got to know Ronda and her two best friends, Harriet Potter and Hermes Granger, even before the D.A.. But that's a whole other thing altogether.

Merlin, I miss them– Hogwarts too. Hogwarts is more then just a school, she's my home.

Well, she _was_ my home.

Feeling utterly miserable now, I crawl under the covers of my bed and try not to think about how much my heart hurts. It takes longer then I thought it would to drift off to sleep, and the only dreams I have are nightmares.


	4. Chapter Three:

**CHAPTER THREE:**

I got away with moping around the house for about a week before Charlize sat me down and bluntly told me she'd enrolled me in Forks High School.

Forks High School, the only high school in the town, had just three hundred and fifty-seven— now fifty-eight— students. Really, that wasn't that different to the number of students at Hogwarts, so I didn't have a problem with the size. What I did have a problem with was that pretty much all of the kids here had grown up together—their bloody _grandparents_ had been toddlers together. I would be the new kid who was supposedly from the big city and had somehow picked up a slight British accent that I had no idea how I was going to explain. I'd be something to stare at and whisper about.

Maybe if I had been one of the cool kids, I could made it work for me. Come in all popular, homecoming king–style. But there was no hiding the fact that I was not that guy— not the football star, not the class president, not the bad boy on the motorcycle. I was the too-tall kid who was too quiet, too skinny and too pale, who didn't know anything about gaming or cars or baseball statistics or anything else muggles my age were supposed to be into.

Honestly, even if I wasn't a wizard, I didn't think I'd fare any better. I didn't relate well to people my age. Actually, I didn't relate well to people, period. Before Hogwarts, before Lyric, I used to wonder if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Like, maybe what I saw as green was what everyone else saw as red. Maybe I smelled vinegar when they smelled coconut. Maybe there was a glitch in my brain.

Glitch in my brain or not, sappy as it sounded, when I met Lyric it had been like meeting someone who had that same glitch. He looked through the world with different eyes too, and we'd basically been inseparable since.

Lyric had been a one in a billion find, and I _knew_ I had absolutely no hope in me that I'd ever find someone like him again– and certainly not at a muggle high school, especially one as small as Forks.

And if I was being perfectly honest, having Lyric as a best friend hadn't done much to improve my social skills seeing as he had none whatsoever. In particular, my tendency to be very blunt with people Gordy claims is a side-effect from being around Lyric, who says whatever thought comes to mind out loud, for so long.

"Do I really have to?" I asked Charlize, hoping that the whine in my voice wasn't as obvious to her as it had sounded to my ears.

"You're miserable," Charlize said, bluntly. "You won't talk to me about why I had to help you get out of Britain and I'm not going to push you about it, but staying in the house like you are isn't going to help. I spoke to the principal, she says you can start as soon as you'd like, and gave me a list of possible classes for you to enroll in."

She fished three crumpled yellow post-it notes from her pocket and handed them to me. I squinted at the small handwriting, which was almost as terrible as mine.

"You realize I did classes like Divination and Potions at Hogwarts, right?" I asked.

"I hoped there'd be some crossover," Charlize admitted. "Home Ec., for one. I thought it had to be sort of like Potions."

I looked at her doubtfully. "I... guess? After five years of Professor Snape– well, four years of her, and one year with Professor Slughorn, I am pretty good at following directions..." I looked down at the post-it with fresh eyes. "Okay, alright; English can't be too awful. I had to write a bunch of essays at Hogwarts. I can do math– it's closely related to Arithmancy, and I'm not too awful at that. PE I can do too– not much background knowledge needed... how many subjects am I going to need?"

"If we fake the right transcripts, then if you sit the exams for six subjects, you should technically be able to get your HSC." Charlize said, all casual like she wasn't talking about breaking the law at all. I was pretty impressed, and slightly inspired too.

"Okay– there has to be at least some similarities with History... what subjects does that then leave? Your handwriting is awful."

Charlize huffed slightly as she took back the post-it and squinted.

"With the other classes, well, you're stuck with either one of the science subjects, or religious studies."

"Urgh," I pulled a face and tried to think of what sounded the worst. "What's the easiest science?"

"I don't know about the easiest," Charlize said, sounding unfairly amused, "but there's some crossover between Biology and PE."

"Fine." I said, reluctant but accepting. "I guess I'll do Biology."

"That's six subjects, then." Charlize said, cheerfully. "I'll ring Norma and tell her you're starting tomorrow." I look up at my mother in alarm.

"Tomorrow?"

"It's a good thing I filled up the gas in your truck yesterday." She said, sounding smug.

I groaned and laid my face on the table in defeat.

-

I didn't sleep well that night and thick fog was all I could see out my window in the morning. It brought back far too vivid memories of my second year, when Dementors were patrolling the school, and I could feel the misery creeping up on me.

Breakfast with Charlize was quiet. She wished me good luck at school and I thanked her, already knowing her hope was likely a waste of time. Good luck tended to avoid me. She left first, off to the police station, and I sat at the old square oak table in one of the three unmatching chairs and glared over at the row of pictures hanging above the small fireplace in the adjoining, microscopic family room. The first one was of Charlize, Reese and me in the hospital after I was born, taken by a helpful nurse, followed by the procession of my school pictures up until I was eleven and started Hogwarts. It could be much worse— age thirteen up had been the braces years, as well as the acne that had finally cleared up, but they were still embarrassing and I'd never managed to convince Charlize to put them somewhere else, at least while I was living there.

I didn't want to be too early to school, but I knew I'd just get more stressed sitting there so I put on my jacket—thick, non-breathing plastic, like a biohazard suit—and headed out into the rain.

It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak me through immediately as I locked up. Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. Either Bonnie or Charlize had obviously cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled faintly of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. The engine started quickly, which was a relief, but it started loudly, roaring to life and then idling at top volume. Well, a truck this old was bound to have a flaw. The antique radio worked, a bonus I hadn't expected.

Finding the school wasn't difficult; like most other things in Forks, it was just off the highway. It wasn't obvious at first that it was a school, though; only the sign, which declared it to be the Forks High School, clued me in. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-colored bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn't see its size at first. Thinking back to the muggle primary schools I'd gone to I wondered where the feel of institutionalization was. Where were the chain-link fences, the metal detectors?

I parked by the first building, which had a small sign over the door reading FRONT OFFICE. No one else was parked there, so I was sure it was off limits, but I decided I would get directions inside instead of circling around in the rain like an idiot.

Inside, it was brightly lit, and warmer than I'd hoped. The office was small; there was a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, and a big clock ticking loudly. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there weren't enough greenery outside. The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored flyers taped to the front. There were three desks behind the counter; a round, balding man in glasses sat at one. He looked up when I entered.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm Beau Swan," I informed him, and saw the quick recognition in his eyes and tried not to groan.

"Of course," he said. He dug through a leaning stack of papers on his desk till he found the ones he was looking for. "I have your schedule right here, Beaufort, and a map of the school." He brought several sheets to the counter to show me. My hand twitched towards my wand, which I had decided to bring with me, at least for familiarity. Sure, I wouldn't actually be able to use it, except for in the case of an emergency, but the fact was an emergency wasn't exactly as improbable as I'd like it to be. In fact, the probability of an emergency was actually higher then the probability of there not being one.

A thoroughly depressing thought that was only more depressing when I thought about all the people I wouldn't be able to hex with bat bogeys for calling me Beaufort.

"Um, it's Beau, please." I said to the man, trying to be as polite about it as possible when I was mentally picturing flying snot attacking him.

"Oh, sure, Beau." The man said easily enough.

He went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to bring back at the end of the day. He smiled at me and said he hoped that I would like it here in Forks. I smiled back as convincingly as I could and wished I was in Britain. I'd even take Potions class with Snape for a week straight over starting at this muggle high school, and that was really saying something– not just because she'd murdered Headmistress Dumbledore, but because she was bloody terrifying.

When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive. I drove around the school, following the line of traffic. Most of the cars were older like mine, nothing flashy. The nicest car here was a brand-new silver Volvo, and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I was in a spot, so that the earsplitting volume wouldn't draw attention to me.

I looked at the map in the truck, memorizing it now so I wouldn't have to walk around with it stuck in front of my nose all day. Compared to learning how to get to all my classes at Hogwarts, navigating Forks High wasn't going to be a challenge.

Knowing I couldn't put it off any longer, I stuffed everything in the backpack Charlize had bought for me, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath. It won't be that bad, I lied to myself. Seriously, though; this wasn't a life and death situation—it was just high school. It wasn't like anyone was going to bite me.

Faintly incredulous that I was so anxious when I knew that by now I'd be on a wanted list in Britain, and much higher up then I'd like to be after escaping from Hogwarts right under the noses of three Death Eaters on top of being a known member of the DA and a friend of the Girl Who Lived, I steeled myself, exhaled and stepped out of the truck.


	5. Chapter Four:

**CHAPTER FOUR:**

I pulled my hood down over my face as I walked to the sidewalk, crowded with teenagers. My plain grey jacket didn't stand out, I was glad to see, though there wasn't much I could do about my height. I hunched my shoulders and kept my head down.

Once I got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large black number three was painted on a white square on the east corner. I followed two unisex raincoats through the door.

The classroom was small. The people in front of me stopped just inside the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. I copied them. They were two girls, one a porcelain-colored blonde, the other also pale, with light brown hair. At least my skin wouldn't be a standout here, like it had been back in primary school in Florida. It'd fitted in well in Britain.

I took the slip up to the teacher, a narrow woman with thinning hair whose desk had a nameplate identifying her as Ms. Mason. She gawked at me when she saw my name— which wasn't discouraging _at all_ — and I could feel the blood rush into my face, no doubt forming unattractive splotches across my cheeks and neck. At least she sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the class. I tried to fold myself into the little desk as inconspicuously as possible.

It was harder for my new classmates to stare at me in the back, but somehow, they managed. I kept my eyes down on the reading list the teacher had given me: Brontë, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. I recognized the muggle authors, though they weren't my favorites– Shakespeare was alright, but I liked Jules Verne, J.D. Salinger, and Edgar Allen Poe. I tried to concentrate on the teacher as she droned on, but kept getting distracted by thinking about what Lyric was doing, which class he'd be in. It was a Monday, which meant we should have had double Charms in the morning. I really hoped that Professor Flitwick hadn't got in trouble for helping me and the other Muggleborns escape. McGonagall and Sprout too.

I'd only been at Forks for a week, and already I was unbelievably frustrated about having no way of knowing what was going on in Britain. The only thing I could think of was the radio station that Gordy had told Lyric, Irvine and I about in a hushed voice— Potterwatch, it was called.

Harriet Potter— or Harri, as people mostly called her— obviously hadn't returned to Hogwarts this year. Neither had Hermes or Ronda. Ronda technically was supposed to bedridden at The Burrow, slowly dying of spattergroit, but Gordy had told us about how their family ghoul was faking being Ronda, while she was off with Harri and Hermes, doing whatever it was they were doing. Not even Gordy knew any of the specifics, except that the Golden Trio, as everyone had nicknamed them, were on some sort of secret mission.

Everyone knew that Harri Potter was our only hope; after Professor Dumbledore died, she became the only one with a chance at stopping the Dark Lady. She's our hero, but more then that, she's my friend, and I'm bloody terrified for her.

She was actually my first crush, embarrassingly enough. I was thirteen and she'd just out-flown a dragon– instant head over heels (seeing her emerge from the Black Lake dripping wet later on didn't help either). I'd known from Gordy though, who was also head over heels for her, that at that time Harri had had a crush on Chen Chang, the Ravenclaw Seeker two years above us. Of course, Chen had been an ungrateful bastard who went to the Yule Ball with the other Hogwarts Triwizard Tournament Champion, Cedrella Diggory, while Harri had gone with a Gryffindor boy in her year, Parijat Patil. Gordy and I had spent that night nursing our broken hearts with Firewhiskey pinched from Gordy's twin sisters. I woke up the next day with my first hangover and had vowed I'd never drink again.

The only other crush I've had was on Gordy, embarrassingly enough, which sent me spiraling into the sort of sexuality crisis that fifteen-year-old boys going through puberty experience when they get an accidental boner while thinking about one of their best friends. Thankfully, Gordy's finally reciprocated affections for Harri distracted him from my confused mortification long enough for Lyric to get Hermes involved in talking me through said sexuality crisis. By that point I was over my crush on Harri (mostly) and thought of her as a friend, so I had been genuinely happy for her— and even more happy for Gordy. It had still hurt a bit though.

The nasal sound of the Forks High school bell pulled me from my memories of the awkward, accidental boners Gordy's devil-may-care grin had kept giving me, and back to the present.

I could see a girl, pale and skinny with skin problems and hair black as an oil slick, leaning towards me and, in a panic to avoid any conversation, knocked my own books off my desk as an excuse to duck away from her before fleeing the classroom. I belatedly realized I'd left my jacket behind, but there was no way I was going back so I decided to return for it during lunch break.

The rest of my morning passed in about the same way. My math teacher Ms. Varner, who I would have disliked anyway just because of the subject she taught, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. I stammered, went splotchy red, and almost tripped over my own boots on the way to my seat.

After two classes, I started to recognize some of the faces in each room. Mostly I avoided actual conversation, but there was always someone brave enough to introduce themselves and ask me questions about how I was liking Forks, and I couldn't always knock down my books to get away from them.

To my utmost irritation, in every class, the teacher started out calling me Beaufort— it had taken me years to live down Beaufort, Reese's beloved grandfather having died a month before I was born, making my dad feel obligated to honor him, and no one at Hogwarts even remembered that Beau was just a nickname anymore. Now I had to start all over again. It was very depressing.

One guy sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish and he walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. He was short, not even up to my shoulder, but his crazy curly hair made up some of the difference between our heights and reminded me of Hermes enough that I was actually attempting to be conversational. I couldn't remember his name, but I smiled and nodded as he rattled on about teachers and classes.

We sat at the end of a full table with several of his friends, who he introduced to me— I forgot all their names as soon as he said them. They seemed to think it was cool that he'd invited me.

It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to avoid making conversation with seven curious strangers, that my magic reacted to something for the first time since Abbie had apparated me away from the Hogs Head.

A warning humming under my skin made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I felt my heart start to race as thousand and one scenarios, each one less probable but even more terrifying then the last, raced through my mind; most of them involving Snatchers, Death Eaters, the Carrows and even— very irrationally but no less petrifying— the Dark Lady Valdis herself.

Sucking in a deep breath, I crossed the fingers of my left hand while under the table I let my wand slide out of my sleeve from the wrist holster that Gordy had bought me for my last birthday, my fingers closing tight around the handle. Feeling the wood warm comfortingly in my grip, I steeled myself and turned my head slightly, only to have to bite back a very undignified and very unmanly scream.

Five figures had just entered the cafeteria, moving with the sleek sort of predatory grace no human could achieve. And that wasn't the only otherworldy aspect about them— the devastatingly, inhuman beauty? The chalky pale skin? The dark, bruise-like purple shadows under those dark, dark eyes?

It took me less then a second to identify what they were. And as the terrifying realization washed through me, I thought I might honestly be sick.

Vampires.

Vampires in bloody _Forks_ of all places!

There were five of them altogether. Three were females; one very tall and visibly toned, with legs that went on forever and dark, curly hair, pulled back in a messy ponytail. Another had hair the color of honey hanging to her shoulders; she was not quite so tall as the brunette, but still taller than most of the other guys at my table. There was something intense about her, edgy. The same sort of edgy I'd felt around Alana "Mad Eye" Moody, and that was a bloody terrifying parallel to draw. The third, and last, female was smaller, with hair somewhere between red and brown, but different than either, kind of metallic somehow, a bronze-y color. She physically appeared younger than the other two who could pass as college students, easy, but I was very aware that that meant very little— she could be hundreds of years older then the oldest looking one of their group, for all I knew.

The two males were opposites. The taller one who I'd guess was about six foot, possibly even more, was as handsome as Veela were beautiful. His straight gold hair was wound into a bun on the back of his head, but there was nothing feminine about it— somehow it made him look even more like a man. The other male, who was about a foot shorter then the blond, was wiry, his dark hair buzzed short.

The part of my brain that wasn't busy screaming decided that the most beautiful of them all was the smaller female with the bronze-colored hair, though I expected the female half of the student body– and more of the male half then they would care to admit– would vote the blond male. The part of my brain that obviously had some sort of death wish decided they would be wrong, though–all of the vampires were gorgeous, but the smaller female was something more than just beautiful. She was absolutely perfect. It was an upsetting, disturbing kind of perfection. It made my stomach uneasy.

As the smaller female and the tall one with the curly hair both turned in my direction, likely prompted by either my stuttering heart or the scream I'd barely managed to stifle, I had to work to hide the blatant terror from my face, hastily turning my head back around and staring down at my food tray, the grip I had on my wand tightening to the point where I was almost surprised I hadn't accidentally broken it.

What were they doing here? What were vampires doing at a mugg— at a _human_ high school? And why the bloody hell did it look like they were pretending to be students?

"I see you've noticed the Cullens," curly-haired, sort of Hermes—look-a-like said, and I glanced up at him, confused.

"Who?"

Hermes—look-a-like looked as if he was trying not to roll his eyes, and the leniency I was feeling towards him because of his faint resemblance to one of my dearly missed friends vanished. "The Cullens. The people who just walked in." He spoke slowly, as if I was an idiot. "Well, the Cullens and the Hales. Edith, Archie and Eleanor Cullen, and Judith and Royal Hale. They live with Dr. Cullen and her husband."

I forgot to be annoyed (and to ask if Royal was actually a name, or if it was a nickname) and instead wanted to throw up at this most recent information– _seven_. There were _seven_ vampires.

Witches and wizards were born with a natural defense against vampires– our blood, while it smelled as appetizing to a vampire as any other muggle, didn't trigger their Thirst and make their throats burn like a muggle's did. Instead, it acted as a soothing agent, almost.

There were spells too, of course, that could be used to actively restrain, destroy and ward away vampires– pity I couldn't actually use magic for three months.

I resisted the increasingly attractive urge to thud my head against the table.

I felt that, in this situation, it wasn't too dramatic to say that we were all doomed.


	6. Chapter Five:

**CHAPTER FIVE:**

Apparently Hermes—look-a-like was actually nothing like Hermes at all, because in a display of epic proportions of idiocy that was as far from the absolute genius Hermes was as possible, he started to insult the five vampires in the room.

"They're all together, though— Royal and Eleanor, Archie and Judith. Like dating, you know? And they live together." He snickered and wagged his eyebrows suggestively.

"It's not a problem if they're not related." I pointed out. I wasn't sure whether my defense of them was because I was trying to make sure Hermes—look-a-like didn't end up dead and drained of his blood because he'd insulted a vampire and their mate, or because I felt genuinely defensive for them at his insult. It was a worrying thought.

"Well, I guess." Hermes—look-a-like admitted reluctantly. "They're all adopted— Dr. Cullen is really young. Early thirties. The Hales— the blondes— are brother and sister, twins, I think, and they're some kind of foster kids."

"That's actually kind of amazing— for them to take care of all those kids, when they're so young and everything." I decided to go for flattery, which was always a good tactic when trying to discourage homicidal urges.

"I guess so," Hermes—look-a-like said, though it sounded like he'd rather not say anything positive. As if he didn't like the vampire doctor and her husband for some reason...  and the way he was looking at their 'adopted kids' over my shoulder, I could guess there was jealousy involved. "I think Dr. Cullen can't have any kids, though," he added, as if that somehow made it less admirable. If they weren't actually all vampires, I'd be very offended on their behalf. As it was, I was a little bit offended anyway. "I wouldn't waste your time on them," Hermes—look-a-like said, "they don't talk to anyone who isn't part of their family." He sounded very sour when he said that. He should be relieved— vampires taking an interest in humans never ended well for the human. That was just plain common sense.

It was that same common sense that had me almost walking straight back out of the biology classroom when I stepped inside and caught sight of the female vampire with the reddish hair sitting next to the only empty seat in the room. It was only the thought of what Charlize might say if I skipped class on my very first day, and my reluctance to tell her the reason for it was because the school was infested with vampires, that had me steeling myself and continuing forwards, over to the teacher.

Mrs. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no nonsense about introductions and no mention of my full name. I could tell we were going to get along. Of course, she had no choice but to send me to the one open seat in the middle of the room, and I generously decided not to blame her for my obviously inevitable death.

I didn't look up over at the vampire as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but then she cleared her throat and I was faced with either being inexcusably rude and ignoring her or acknowledging her existence. Reluctantly I looked up, awkwardly hoping she couldn't smell how terrified I was.

Despite the beauty of her facial features, my gaze was stuck very firmly on her eyes. I couldn't distinguish the irises from the pupils they were so dark which meant she was going to need to feed soon, and I wondered, miserably, just who was going to end up as this vampire's dinner.

"I'm Edith Cullen," she introduced herself. Her voice sounded like angels and unicorns and rainbows and fairy floss. And I honestly wasn't exaggerating.

"I'm Beau Swan," I said, forcing my scared stiff features into what I hoped was a smile. It felt like I was showing too many teeth. Curiosity was evident in her gaze, and I hastily looked down, opening my textbook to prevent any further conversation, hoping she'd read it as shyness.

I forced myself to actually start reading the words on the page in an effort to distract myself while waiting for the lesson to begin. The distraction worked far better then I'd expected, and I almost even managed to forget the stunningly beautiful vampire sitting next to me as I stared at the pages of my textbook in incomprehensive horror. To say that I understood nothing I was reading would be hopelessly optimistic.

As Mrs. Banner started her lecture on cellular anatomy, I was careful to take detailed notes even though I couldn't comprehend ninety-nine percent of what she was saying. Obviously I was going to have to transfer out of this class, I realised with an internal sigh.

Mrs. Banner passed some quizzes back when the class was almost done and when she handed me one to give to the vampire I started to think she might not be my favourite after all.

I tried not to meet Edith's gaze as I handed her the quiz, but in doing so accidentally touched her hand. The icy coldness had me flinching, and I dropped the stapled sheets of paper I snatched my hand away so quickly. I wasn't sure if I was more embarrassed or afraid as I fumbled, picking up the quiz and accidentally seeing her score— one hundred percent... and I'd been spelling her name wrong in my head. It was Edythe, not Edith. I'd never seen it spelled that way, but it fit her better.

Edythe's eyes were openly confused as I finally managed to pass her back her quiz, and I was so relieved when the bell rang that I was one of the first out of the classroom, stuffing my things hurriedly into my satchel before fleeing.

Unfortunately, a baby-faced girl with hair carefully flat-ironed into a pale curtain stepped in my path, forcing me to stop. She was smiling at me in a friendly way, so I tried to make my uncharitable thoughts slightly less uncharitable.

"Aren't you Beaufort Swan?" she asked, and I stopped bothering.

"Beau," I corrected, and tried to smile. Too many teeth again.

"I'm McKayla." She said.

"Um, hi McKayla." I said when it became obvious she was expecting a reply, reluctantly forcing myself to be polite even as I mentally cursed her.

"Do you need any help finding your next class?"

"I'm headed to the gym, actually. I think I can find it."

"That's my next class, too." She seemed thrilled, though it wasn't such a big coincidence in a school this small. Resigning myself to her company, I walked with her to class. She was a chatterer, supplying most of the conversation while I plotted my get away. I could practically hear Gordy laughing right now. Lyric, at least, would pat my arm consolingly. And then lament the wrackspurt infestation McKayla was suffering, his way of teasing me about the over eager girl (because she _surely_ must be suffering from some kind of mental malady to be wanting to talk to me).

The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a uniform but she told me that I didn't have to join that day. I considered sitting out, but I knew that time would pass quicker if I played. Volleyball wasn't that bad, either, and even with four games running simultaneously, it was still less confusing then Quidditch.

When the final bell rang at last, I went back and found the jacket I'd left behind in my first classroom of the day. The rain had faded away, but the wind was strong and colder, making me thankful for it.

I went to the office to return my paperwork, mumbling an affirmative to the man at the desk there— Mr. Cope, I learnt his name was— when he asked if I'd had a good first day, before rushing from the office, to The Thing.

Locking myself in my truck, despite the fact I knew it wouldn't even slow down a vampire if they really wanted to get to me I still managed to take my first proper breath all day. It felt like a small haven, and even the sound of the engine roaring to life was comforting.

I drove back home, trying not to think of an upcoming death via exsanguination.

Arriving home, I face-planted down on the couch and started to brainstorm how to convince Charlize I didn't actually need to keep going to muggle school. I was still going through different arguments with her in my head when she arrived home.

"How was your first day, Beau?" she asked, sounding unfairly cheerful as she took off her gun belt. I looked longingly at the gun and wondered how long it took to heal from a shot to the arm– that would get me out of school for at least a month, right? More if I could get myself admitted into a psychiatric ward.

And then I remembered that one of the vampires was a doctor, and there went that plan. I didn't want to go anywhere near any of the Cullens with a paper cut, let alone a bullet wound.

"That bad?" Charlize said, sounding sympathetic, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"You have no idea." I said darkly, and she looked unfairly amused.

"The first time is always the worst– it can only get better from here." She said, like that was encouraging. I gave her the glare that it deserved, and she raised an eyebrow. "It was really that bad?"

"Do I have to go back?" I asked, and there was enough genuine pleading in my voice that she actually paused.

"You really didn't like it?" she asked, and the joking was gone from her voice, replaced instead by gentle concern. It made me very uncomfortable.

"I really don't want to go back." I admitted. She pursed her lips.

"Okay, let's make a deal. If you finish this week and you still hate it, then you don't have to go back, okay?" she said and, knowing this was the best I was going to get, I nodded and turned my planning towards how to survive these next four days.


	7. Chapter Six:

**CHAPTER SIX:**

Despite my desperate brainstorming and thorough reading of every (now un-shrunken) school book I had that even _mentioned_ vampires, I was no closer to figuring out a solution to my problem. Add to that a nightmare that had me waking up shivering and soaked in sweat at four in the morning and not being able to get back to sleep, I was not in a good mood on Tuesday.

It only got worse when Ms. Varner called on me in math when my hand wasn't raised and I had the wrong answer, and then, much to my dismay, it turned out McKayla was in my History class, as well as the skinny black-haired girl, and McKayla immediately came and sat by me, then walked with me to my next class, the other girl glaring at her all the way.

My reluctance to be rude to a girl had me then trapped sitting with the same group at lunch as the day before. At least by this point I'd remembered the Hermes–look-a-like's name was Jeremy, and I'd also learned the names of a few others who sat at the same table– there was Abel, a quiet boy with rectangle-framed glasses and a faintly bookish air about him; a sporty red-head called Colleen, who had apparently been impressed with my performance in volleyball yesterday; Erica, the skinny, black-haired girl in my math class; Becca, who, going by the big doe eyes she kept giving him, obviously had a thing for Abel; and Logan, who, going by the angry eyes he kept giving me, obviously did not like me.

And just to put the cherry on the sundae, as I tried not to drag my feet while following McKayla into the cafeteria, I got a good look at the five vampires who, much to my utter dismay, all seemed much more interested in me today then they had yesterday.

My admittedly odd behavior had obviously stirred up suspicion, leaving me both frustrated and afraid and I wished that I was back in my bedroom– preferably, sleeping. Even more then that, though, I wished I was back at Hogwarts, and that Headmistress Dumbledore had never been murdered, because if she was still alive then the Dark Lady wouldn't have taken over, and I'd still be with Lyric and Gordy and even Neve, and Harri, Ronda and Hermes would be safe, and I wouldn't be stuck here, in a muggle high school, absolutely bloody _useless_ , unable to even defend myself against vampires.

My distraction continued from lunchtime into my next class, where my lack of attention cost me as a stray volleyball rebounded off the wall and pelted against my hip. This caused burning flare of pain that had me stumble, not having expected it.

Coach Clapp must have seen the way my face instantly went white, both my hands lifting to press almost automatically against the skin between my ribcage and hip. I blamed my lack of sleep for the way it felt, for a heartbeat, like I could still feel hot blood leaking through my fingers.

"Old injury?" she asked briskly, ushering me off the court, over to the side. I concentrated on taking several deep breaths, the pain having mostly faded by this point, before answering her.

"I was in a car accident a year ago," I lied, and she immediately looked concerned.

"I want you to go check in with the nurse, alright?" she said. I was about to protest when I realized I'd just been granted the perfect opportunity to get out of biology.

"Okay," I agreed, and Coach seemed surprised but pleased by my lack of argument.

"I'll show Beau where the nurse's station is," offered McKayla, who I hadn't even realized was close enough to overhear our conversation.

I grabbed my stuff from the locker room, not wanting to make a return trip when I– hopefully– managed to get a sick pass, then followed McKayla. She kept giving me big, concerned eyes, clearly dying to ask some question or other, and I wasn't sure how much of my explanation to Coach she'd overheard.

She led us to the front office where Mr. Cope had handled my paperwork yesterday, then past the front counter, toward the door at the back of the room.

A grandfatherly old man, the school medic, looked up from a novel he was reading as we entered. "Is everything alright?" he asked, in a deeper voice then I was expecting. McKayla looked expectantly up at me and I cleared my throat.

"Um, I was hit by a volleyball in Gym," I said, "it aggravated an old injury from an accident I was in last year, so Coach asked me to come here." The nurse nodded.

"Alright, can you tell me what happened? I don't think we've got your medical records yet."

No, they most certainly didn't– my last muggle medical record was from when I was eleven. If the school asked for a copy of them, then Charlize was going to have to provide more fake papers– she'd gone with 'my crazy ex-husband didn't believe in schools so he home-schooled Beau' as well as producing a bunch of fake exam results to explain away my lack of school records, but I was pretty sure there were a bunch of muggle immunizations I hadn't had that would raise questions– questions Charlize and I wouldn't have answers to.

"I, uh," I paused, turning to McKayla, trying to indicate that I wanted her to leave. She didn't seem to get the message but the old man did.

"Thank you for bringing Mr. Swan here, Miss Newton," he said, and much to my relief he practically pushed her out. When he closed the door I actually let out a sigh that was far more audible then I'd intended, and the nurse let out a chuckle. "Do you need to sit down, son?" he asked, and I was about to shake my head because by now the pain had completely vanished, but then I remembered I was supposed to be playing it up to get out of biology.

"Um, yeah. That would be good." I said, trying not to stumble over my words– I wasn't a good liar. I'd never really needed to be one, before now. I awkwardly sat down on one of the cots, the crackly paper covering the vinyl mattress scrunching beneath me.

"I'm Mr. Hammond," the school nurse introduced himself, "now, what type of accident was it that you were in?"

"Car accident." I said, awkwardly, because that's what I'd told Coach.

"Can I see?" The old man asked, and I realized that one of my hands was pressed against my side again in a rather telling fashion. Reluctantly, I lifted my gym shirt, and Mr. Hammond made a sympathetic noise.

The scar was half an inch thick and deep, curving under my ribcage and down to my left hip. It had nearly killed me when I was fourteen and, along with Lyric, Harri, Hermes, Ronda, Gordy and Neve Longbottom, had broken into the Department of Mysteries.

The entire situation had been a complete disaster– Harri had been lured into a trap by the Dark Lady, and those of us that had followed her had been ambushed by Death Eaters. We'd all been lucky to get out of there alive, though for some of us it was a near thing. We could have all died that day.

Hermes had been hit with a very Dark curse by Antonia Dolohov, a curse that had left him on the verge of death– it should have killed him, but he'd hit Dolohov with a silencing spell earlier, which had weakened the curse enough his heart had kept beating. Ronda had been badly concussed and then attacked by a tank of aquavarius maggots (and Lyric _still_ brought those up as proof whenever anyone tried to say one of his creatures or other didn't actually exist) which had done _something_ to her mind, an effect similar to being roofied with muggle drugs; Gordy had been hit in the ankle with a bone-breaking curse; Neve had broken her nose head-butting a Death Eater; Lyric had managed to stay mostly unscathed, other then a few small cuts and bruises, and Harri had actually been– very briefly– possessed by the Dark Lady herself.

I was hit in the side by a cutting curse by Evanna Rosier, one of the Death Eaters who had escaped Azkaban. I'd nearly bled out on the hard stone floor of the Death Chamber, and the last thing I remember before waking up in the Hospital Wing was Harri's anguished scream as a gaunt-faced woman, her face forever frozen in a last laugh, fell through the Death Veil.

Later I learned that the woman had been Stella Black; Harri's godmother, the woman who everyone said had betrayed the Potters to the Dark Lady and the only witch or wizard to ever break themselves out of Azkaban (the Death Eaters broken out by the Dark Lady didn't count because _She_ had broken them out). It turned out that Stella hadn't been guilty after all, but it was only after her death at the hands of her own cousin Braxton Lestrange, a true Death Eater and one of the Dark Lady's best lieutenants, that she was finally exonerated.

"That looks nasty," Mr. Hammond said, and I gave a weak laugh.

"Yeah. I don't actually remember any of the accident– the doctors say amnesia– but apparently they had to dig bits of metal out of my side." I lied, and Mr. Hammond nodded.

"Do you get a lot of pain?" he asked, concerned.

"Really only from rough contact." I answered, which was true– Dark curses left their marks in more ways then just physical; wounds just didn't quite heal right, the Dark magic lingering to cause whatever pain and grief it could. "Do you think I could lay down for a bit?" I asked, and I tried not to look so victorious when he nodded.

Pulling my legs up, the crackly paper making complaining sounds, I slumped over so I was laying flat. The cot's mattress honestly wasn't that bad and I even dozed off for a bit.

Mr. Hammond woke me in time for my last class of the day– English– and I stopped briefly in the bathroom to splash cold water on my face before sitting down to listen to Ms. Mason dissect Emily Brontë's ' _Wuthering Heights_ ' and reminded myself I actually needed to read the text. Then I remembered that I was only going to be going to Forks High for three more days, and gladly zoned out.

When the final bell rang I was relieved, and when when McKayla spotted me in the corridors I pretended I didn't see her, walking as quickly as I could to my truck while trying not to look like I was running away from her (which I absolutely was).

Clambering inside The Thing, I practically slammed the door shut, and twisted the key, the engine roaring to life. Pulling out of the parking space, I could see McKayla, a frustrated look on her face, over by the main office. I continued pretending I couldn't see her, driving home as quickly as the speed limits and the old engine in my even older car allowed me.

I considered not bothering with my homework– only three days left– but the Ravenclaw in me was horrified at the idea, and the memory of my embarrassment in math that morning was enough for me to drag out my textbooks and get to work.

I was struggling my way through a particularly difficult trigonometry equation when I heard the sound of Charlize's cruiser pulling up in the driveway I'd left clear, parking my truck on the street instead.

Looking over at the clock hanging up in the family room, I winced when I saw the time– nearly eight pm. I probably should have started making something for dinner. In the week I'd spent moping around the house, I'd put myself in charge of cooking the meals. We'd had left overs yesterday that Charlize had reheated, but nothing today. I wasn't even sure if Charlize had done the grocery shopping or not.

When my mother entered the house, though, she brought with her the unmistakable smell of fresh-cooked pizza. My stomach let out a growl in response to the mouthwatering scent, and I realised for the first time that I hadn't eaten anything since lunch.

"So," Charlize said, a pleasant smile on her face as she walked over through the tiny family room to where I was sitting at the table. "I hear you were in a car accident."

I cringed, not having expected the school to contact Charlize about my visit to the nurse's office– Hogwarts had certainly never sent any owls home, not unless you were in really big trouble. Not even after I'd nearly died in the Department of Mysteries, or when students were being petrified, or a mass-murderer (later exonerated) broke into the school- twice, or when Death Eaters broke into the school and the Headmistress was murdered had they ever sent anything home to either Reese or Charlize.

"I can explain?" I offered, and Charlize lost her smile, her brown eyes, usually warm like chocolate, going hard and angry.

"You bet your ass you can explain, Beau!" She snapped, slamming the box of pizza down on the table hard enough that I actually flinched. "Why the hell am I getting a phone call from your school saying you were in a _car accident_ last year, when I know for a fact that you were either with the Lovegoods, at Hogwarts, or with me?"

Cursing myself, Mr. Cope and Mr. Hammond, I reluctantly lifted up my jumper and t-shirt, exposing the scar for the second time today. A hiss escaped from between Charlize's teeth, and her face visibly paled.

"Beau," she said, and her voice wasn't furious now, it was horrified. "Beau, baby, what happened?"

Ignoring her use of the very undignified pet name, I cleared my throat awkwardly. I didn't want to lie to Charlize, but I didn't want to tell her the truth either– I didn't want her to feel as helpless and useless as I was right now, thinking of Lyric getting injured at Hogwarts, while I was trapped here. "Beau," Charlize repeated, when I stayed silent. "Just tell me the truth, okay? I won't be angry, I just need to know."

I looked down at my hands, clenched in tight fists over my thighs. The scars on the back of my hand from Professor Umbridge's stupid quill stood out faintly against my skin– _I must not break the rules_.

"You know how I explained that it's... not common for two muggles, two non-magical people, to have a magical child," I said, finally, deciding to be as honest as I could. "Well there's... there's some witches and wizards who think that those of us who are born with non-magical parents don't deserve our magic. I got... caught in the crossfire of a fight between those extremists and a sort of vigilante group." That sounded better then 'I followed one of my friends into a trap, breaking into a government building and ended up fighting against convicted murderers who had been broken out of maximum security prison by their leader, a mass-murdering psychopath with serious daddy issues and a burning hatred for anything related to either muggles or Harri Potter, both of which I am'. "I got hurt pretty badly," I admitted, "but I was never in danger of, you know," I made an awkward gesture that hopefully translated as 'dying' or 'ending up not alive', because saying it out loud would mean Charlize hearing the blatant lie for what it was.

My mother was pale and her hands shook as they opened the pizza box, revealing cheesy, pizza goodness. If there was one thing I had really missed over in England, it was pizza, cheeseburgers, onion rings and curly fries. Basically, all the cheap fast-food that Reese had only let me have on rare occasions, therefore creating in my young mind the whole 'forbidden fruit' attraction; loving it because it was forbidden to me.

"And this is related to why you had to leave Britain the normal– er, _muggle_ way?" Charlize asked, her voice pained, and I nodded, relieved that she'd accepted my highly edited story. She muttered something under her breath and ran a hand through her hair. "Jesus, kid," she said, finally, "you're going to turn my hair grey."

And, in true Charlize fashion, that was that. "I'll get the plates– there's a game on tonight." She said and, to my relief, the interrogation was over.


	8. Chapter Seven:

**CHAPTER SEVEN:**

When I woke up on Wednesday to weak rays of sunlight peeking through gaps in the heavy grey clouds, I felt relieved. With the threat of the sun, the Cullens wouldn't be able to attend school, not without the risk of giving away their supernatural status by sparkling like fairy princess.

Sure enough, when I pulled up in the student parking lot, there was no Volvo in sight.

School was better that day, too. People didn't stare at me quite as much and I managed to hide in the library during lunchtime, successfully evading McKayla.

When biology came around, I walked into a classroom with no Edythe and firmly told myself I was relieved. I was glad that she wasn't there, that I had the desk to myself; this I repeated, over and over. Still, I couldn't get rid of the annoying whisper of doubt in the back of my mind, the memory of her perfect beauty, those dark eyes framed by long eyelashes confused as she looked at me.

Vampire; I reminded myself, whenever my thoughts strayed dangerously towards that territory. Everything about a vampire was designed to attract, to draw in their prey– humans. There was little wonder that I felt such a pull towards her.

When the school day was done I drove to the Thriftway, Charlize having requested I pick up the groceries. The Thriftway was not far from the school, a few streets south, off the highway. I fell easily into the pattern of a familiar job. When I got home, I unloaded the groceries then picked a recipe from my Home Ec. book for dinner.

After sticking a marinade-covered steak in the fridge, I pulled out my homework and textbooks and got started. Charlize didn't get home until late, some time past nine, and she was exhausted enough that she went to bed before I did.

I slept badly that night, images of red eyes, like endless pools of blood, dominating my dreams.

Thursday followed much of the same routine as Wednesday had, except it was raining again, the sun hidden once more behind thick grey clouds. I debated how to get out of biology, then decided I was trying to _not_ stand out to the vampires, and avoiding my only class with a vampire in it wasn't exactly subtle.

McKayla had latched onto me during English, and acted weirdly territorial over me all through the day. She brought up the subject of my car accident at the lunch table, where I was sitting with her and her friends once again, carefully avoiding even glancing over at the Cullens. I repeated the amnesia excuse to her, citing that I'd hit my head hard enough I didn't remember most of the day of the accident, that it had been nothing exciting, just a drunk driver hitting the car my dad was driving.

I was almost relieved to be going to biology, as it meant McKayla couldn't keep invading my personal space, but my stomach twisted at the thought of having to sit next to a vampire. It was far too easy to imagine sharp, unnaturally white teeth settle at my neck, rip through flesh and drink my life away as my fingers went numb and my vision turned dark.

Once inside the classroom, I was relieved that Edythe's chair was still empty as it gave me a moment to settle myself. Class still had a few minutes before it began and the room buzzed with conversation. I kept my eyes away from the door, carefully concentrating on the open page of my textbook. I'd spent an hour last night going over the content Mrs. Banner would be covering today, trying to understand it the best I could so I could get the most out of the lesson.

Still, I heard very clearly when the chair next to me moved, though I kept my eyes focused on the page.

"Hello," Edythe said, in her quiet, musical voice. I looked up and instantly had to school my features as I got my first good look at her since my first day– it wasn't the fact she looked like she'd just finished shooting a commercial, her dripping wet hair tangled but somehow perfect and a slight smile curving her full, pink lips, that had me shocked speechless. I could remember Monday so vividly, recall so easily the fear I'd felt looking into the flat black color of her eyes— so jarring against the background of her pale skin. I'd expected, once she'd fed, her irises to turn to a bloody crimson red. Instead they were gold; darker than butterscotch but just was warm.

She didn't feed off humans.

I felt like laughing; overwhelming relief flooding me. Even the growing confusion in her stunning golden eyes, with hints of suspicion, did little to dampen my relief.

Charlize was safe, I was safe, even stupid Hermes–look-a-like Jeremy was safe. None of us were going to end up as dinner for one of the Cullens, and that knowledge made me almost giddy.

When Edythe cleared her throat, I realized that I'd just been staring at her like an absolute crackpot for who knew how long. I fought back the threatening blush.

"Um," I said, and then, because I couldn't think of anything else, "did you get contacts?"

She seemed puzzled by my apropos-of-nothing question. "No."

"Oh," I mumbled. "I thought there was something different about your eyes."

I saw the flash of realization in her eyes before she shrugged and looked away, and I was grateful for the time to gather my thoughts.

This... this changed _everything_. Mrs. Banner started her lecture and I did my best to concentrate on what she was saying, but my thoughts were spinning. Charlize had said that after tomorrow I wouldn't have to return to Forks High. In the interest of wanting to stay as far away from the Cullens as possible, I had fully intended that Friday would be my last.

Except the Cullens weren't human drinkers. They weren't dangerous to me– well, I still wouldn't want to bleed in front of them, because control only went so far, but they weren't actively hunting and killing humans.

The school bell rang and I left biology still in a slight daze. McKayla instantly latched onto me, and I didn't try to fight it, just followed her to PE. Coach, taking one look at me, seemed to realize I was going to be next to useless so she assigned me a position where I could do the least amount of damage possible. I still ended up hit in the face with a volleyball, but at least that pulled me into the present enough that I wasn't a danger on the road when I pulled out of my parking space and backed into a place in the line of cars that were waiting to exit the parking lot.

As I waited, trying to pretend that the earsplitting rumble of The Thing's thunderous engine was coming from someone else's car, I saw the five Cullens walking up to their car. They looked at my noisy truck as I passed them, just like everyone else. Except they weren't anything like anyone else.

The blond vampire girl, the one who reminded me of Mad-Eye, caught me looking and the way her eyes narrowed made me turn straight ahead and punch the gas.

(The truck didn't go any faster, the engine just grumbled even louder, but it made me feel better.)

-

I didn't do any homework that night, instead I wrote myself a pros and cons list about whether or not I should continue at Forks High. When that didn't help me make up my mind, I thought of Lyric, who'd have been able to help me– he always had the answers. Even if those answers made no sense whatsoever.

Thinking of Lyric made me think about Gordy, and Shaun and Irvine, and Harri, Hermes, Ronda and Neve too, which made me feel miserable, but it also made me think of the radio station Gordy had told Lyric and I about– Potterwatch.

Digging through my school trunk, I fished out the small radio Lyric had given me last Christmas, with its two wonky antennae and about fifteen different sized dials that somehow all fit on the radio that wasn't even the size of a brick.

It was almost spooky; I'd never shown an interest in the Wizarding Wireless Network, there had been no reason for Lyric to decide to a radio was the perfect gift, no indication that I'd ever need one. Except sometimes he just _did_ things like that; sometimes he just seemed to _know_ things, things that he shouldn't. And you either had to accept that, or let it drive you crazy. Sanity was overrated, of course, but in my first year I'd decided to just let it go– so what if Lyric was special? So what if he probably had some sort of Seer blood in him? So what if he was slightly– or a lot– bonkers? He was my best friend, and that was that.

Pulling out my wand, I twisted the dials to the frequency I was mostly sure Gordy had said was the right one to pick up the broadcast. Trying to think of possible passwords that the Light could have used, I tapped my wand against one of the dials while speaking them out loud, hoping that one of them would work; _phoenix, Harri, Potter, lightning-bolt, Light, savior, Order, Hermes, Granger, Ronda, Weasley, Muggleborn, Hogwarts, muggles, Alba, Dumbledore, Stella, Black_ –

I almost dropped the radio when a very familiar voice issued from the tiny speakers, and it was only a slight exaggeration to say that my jaw practically hit the ground.

Gordy had never mentioned the fact _LeeAnne Jordan_ helped run the pirate radio program, because that was undeniably her voice coming out of my radio; I recognized it easily from all those Quidditch matches she'd commentated. And if LeeAnne was involved, then I had absolutely no doubt the twins, Frederica and Georgina, were involved too.

 _"We apologise for our temporary absence from the airwaves, which is due to a number of house-calls in our area by those charming 'Death Eaters'."_ LeeAnne's voice cheerfully announced _. "But now, we're back! So, let's move to news concerning the wickedest witch who is proving just as elusive as our Harri Potter. We'd like to refer to her as 'Queen Death Eater'. And here to give us their views on some of the more_ insane _rumours circulating about her, I'd like to introduce our new correspondent, 'Rodent'!"_

I actually started laughing at the familiar voice issuing from the speaker, full of indignation– whether it was Georgina or Frederica I wasn't sure, the twins' voices were as identical as their faces.

 _"I'm not being Rodent!"_ the twin said. _"I told you, I want to be, 'Rapier'!"_

 _"Oh alright, 'Rapier'!"_ LeeAnne said, with a mock-sigh _. "Could you tell our listeners the various stories you've heard about the Queen Death Eater?"_

_"Yes I can. As our listeners will know, unless they've taken refuge at the bottom of a garden pond, You-Know-Who's strategy of remaining in the shadows is creating a nice climate of panic! Mind you, if all alleged sightings of her are genuine, there must be nineteen You-Know-Whos running around!"_

_"Which suits her of course, the air of mystery creates more terror than actually showing herself."_

_"Agreed. So people, let's try and calm it down a bit, things are bad enough without inventing stuff! For instance, this new idea that You-Know-Who can kill you with a single glance from her eyes. That's a basilisk, listeners! One simple test: check whether the thing that's glaring at you has legs: if it has, it's safe to look. Although, if it really is You-Know-Who, that's still likely to be the_ last _thing you ever do."_ I couldn't help my laughter at the terrible joke, unable to believe I could actually find something that featured in the worst of my nightmares so amusing, and yet undeniably entertained.

_"Well, thank you for that update, Rodent!"_

_"Rapier!"_

_"And don't forget to tune in again listeners, for more stories, tales, updates, and advice. In the meantime–"_

_"Stay safe!"_

_"And support Harri Potter!"_

I felt a bit like laughing and a lot like crying, but I did neither, just sat there; wand in my hand and radio on my lap.

I wasn't exactly... cheered up, by any means, but by the time Charlize arrived home, I wasn't as confused or uncertain. As we sat down at the table– she had cooked– Charlize broke the comfortable silence we usually ate in.

"So, how's school been going? Make any friends?" she asked. I knew she was trying to ask if I planned on continuing school after tomorrow or not and purposefully kept my answer vague.

"Well, I have a few classes with this guy named Jeremy. I sit with his friends at lunch. And there's this girl, McKayla, who's friendly. Everybody seems pretty nice."

"That must be McKayla Newton. Nice girl— nice family. Her dad owns the sporting goods store just outside of town. He makes a good living off all the backpackers who come through here."

We ate in silence for a minute, until I thought of asking Charlize what she thought of the Cullens– my mother was a good judge of character, even if she didn't have all the information (and I was referring to their little 'poaching' habit there).

"Do you know the Cullen family?" I asked, keeping my voice casual.

"Dr. Cullen's family?" Charlize said. "Sure. She's a great woman."

"I have a class with one of her kids." I said. "I noticed that none of them seem to fit in very well at school."

The point I was trying to lead up to was if Charlize ever got the feeling there was something _off_ about them, but instead I was surprised to see her face get red, the way it did when she was angry.

"People in this town," she muttered. "Dr. Cullen is a brilliant surgeon who could probably work in any hospital in the world, make ten times the salary she gets here," she continued, getting louder. "We're lucky to have her– lucky that her husband wanted to live in a small town. She's an asset to the community, and all of those kids are well behaved and polite. I had my doubts, when they first moved in, with all those adopted teenagers. I thought we might have some problems with them. But they're all very mature– I haven't had one speck of trouble from any of them. That's more than I can say for the children of some folks who have lived in this town for generations. And they stick together the way a family should– camping trips every other weekend...  Just because they're newcomers, people have to talk."

I backpedaled. "They seemed nice enough to me. I just noticed they kept to themselves. They're all very attractive," I added, trying to be more complimentary. It worked.

"You should see the doc," Charlize said, laughing. "It's a good thing she's happily married. A lot of the hospital staff have a hard time concentrating on their work with her around." My mother then turned sly eyes towards me. "Which one did you say was in your class again?" I rolled my eyes at her.

"It's not like that." I said, and she laughed.

"Sure it isn't. Is it the tall girl? Or the blond?"

"That's presumptuous," I said, mostly just to knock her off kilter the way she'd knocked me off kilter. It worked, and her eyes widened.

"Are– are you– not that I have a problem with it, of course, Beau, I just didn't realize, you never said anything–"

"I don't really prefer one gender over the other," I interrupted, putting her out of her misery. She looked confused but I just shrugged. Hermes had used words like 'bisexual', 'pansexual' and 'demisexual' but he'd also said most sexualities were fluid to a degree and unique to each person. Labels could be good for understanding things, but I didn't think they should define a person, and I didn't let them define me.

"Have you ever, you know..." Charlize made some sort of gesture with her hands and it felt like my face was on fire I started blushing so hard.

"Mom!" My voice was embarrassingly shrill. Charlize's eyes widened, and her expression turned just as horrified as I imagined mine was.

"I meant kissing, Beau! Not– not _sex_!"

We stared at each other, mortified, before both looking down at our dinner plates. I focused on trying to make my face not look quite so red, and after a few minutes she cleared her throat awkwardly.

"Don't think I didn't notice you never actually answered my question, Beau," she said. "Either of them."

I looked up from my plate, my face not quite tomato red anymore, and decided admitting which Cullen I shared a class with had less embarrassing potential then her second question about if I'd ever kissed anyone. "I– I'm in a class with Edythe Cullen. The shorter one with the reddish hair." 

"Oh?" Charlize lifted an eyebrow in a way that was very judgmental. "That's a lot of detail for 'it's not like that'."

"No it's not," I protested. "Height, gender and hair color! Perfectly normal!"

"I think you doth protest too much." I glared at my mother and pointedly stood up. Her laughter followed me into the kitchen, where I starter filling the sink with soapy water– whoever didn't cook, it was decided, had to wash the dishes. 

Elbow deep in hot, soapy water, I decided I'd wait until after tomorrow to decide whether or not to stay at Forks High.


	9. Chapter Eight:

**CHAPTER EIGHT:**

Nothing noteworthy happened on Friday.

McKayla was annoying, classes were hard and covered a lot of things I'd never heard of or done before, Ms. Varner called me out again in math– though at least this time I had the correct answer, Logan glared at me during lunchtime, and I felt a curious golden stare fixed on me all throughout biology.

Even some of the other students were beginning to notice it.

"Edythe Cullen was staring at you," McKayla said on the way to PE, looking very unhappy about it.

"Oh?" I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"What, did you ask her out or something?" she asked, her voice aiming for the same nonchalance, but not succeeding as well as I hoped I was. "Because she's gorgeous, but I wouldn't waste your time– she doesn't go out with anyone. No one's good enough for her." There was thinly veiled disgust in her voice, as well as a whole boatload of resentment, and it made my skin prickle uncomfortably.

"I've barely talked to her." I said, hoping that would end the conversation.

No such luck.

"The Cullens basically don't talk to anyone, or like anyone. I don't think they even notice anybody enough to like them." McKayla said. "But Edythe was staring at you." Honestly, it sounded like she was accusing me, and I didn't know how I was supposed to respond.

I was the human with the fascinating scent; I wasn't surprised that I'd managed to intrigue Edythe, especially with my less then subtle reaction on Monday. But McKayla was acting like I _owed_ her some sort of explanation, and I didn't even _like_ her. The only one of her group I actually liked was Abel, because he was pretty much the quintessential Ravenclaw; quiet, serious about his studies and never far from a book. The conversation I'd had with him about ' _Catcher In The Rye'_ during lunch was the longest conversation I'd had with anyone at Forks High, and Abel had given me the directions to Forks' library afterwards, though he'd warned me there was a very limited selection of books available.

"I probably had something in my hair." I said, with a shrug. McKayla's mouth pressed into a thin, unhappy line, but I ignored it, heading off to the boy's locker room to change.

That afternoon I turned on a cooking channel and fiddled with the radio, trying to find the Potterwatch broadcast, while learning how to make a soufflé.

The password this time turned out to be Moody– which gave me an idea of what the general theme of Potterwatch passwords would be– the radio tuning in to LeeAnne Jordan mid-sentence.

_"—picking up the latest stories about You-Know-Who; we've heard rumours that she keeps being sighted abroad."_

_"Well, who wouldn't want a nice little holiday after all the hard work she's been putting in?"_ Georgina (or Frederica) asked.

_"True. But the point is people don't get lulled into a false sense of security, thinking she's out of the country: maybe she is, maybe she isn't. But the fact remains she can be faster than Severina Snape confronted with shampoo."_

_"I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but: safety first!"_ Frederica (or Georgina) said– and that made the two of us; 'safety first' was the last possible thing I'd expect to hear from either of the twins.

 _"And what of the rumours about Harri Potter? Do you believe she's still in the country? Do you think she's still alive?"_ LeeAnne Jordan asked, and I stopped breathing as I waited for the twin to answer.

 _"I do."_ She said, with iron in her voice. _"If she had been killed, or had run away, the Death Eaters would_ want _us_ _to know: they'd tell_ everyone _."_

 _"And what would you say to Harri, if you knew she was listening?"_ LeeAnne Jordan pressed.

 _"I'd tell her to keep it up, whatever she's doing. We know she'll help finish You-Know-Who!"_ Frederica/Georgina said, and I nodded fiercely, even though there was no one around to see it.

 _"Thank you very much for those wise words. Listeners, that brings us to the end of another_ Potterwatch _. We don't know when it'll be possible to broadcast again, but you can be sure: we shall be back!"_

_"Keep each other safe. Keep faith."_

_"And do what you can to stop You-Know-Who!"_

When the radio turned back to white noise I had to blink back unmanly tears. I lifted a hand, pressing to my chest where I could feel the harsh pounding of my heart. In an effort to calm and center myself, I tried turning my focus on the cooking show again. When it finished, I wiped away the dampness on my cheeks and promised myself that was the last of the tears.

For today, anyway.

It was my turn to cook so I made lasagna– and a soufflé– then got started on my homework.

When Charlize got home at seven I served up dinner and stayed mostly silent as I ate, still occupied by thoughts of Harri and Hogwarts. Charlize was the one who brought up the topic of my schooling. "Is this you buttering me up for when you tell me you're not continuing school?" She asked as I brought out the soufflé. Her face was mostly resigned. It took me a moment to realize what she was talking about, to remember the deal we'd made.

"Actually," I told her, slowly, "I thought I might keep giving it a go." Charlize looked shocked.

"Really?" She asked, before hastily adding, "of course, I'm happy you are, but you seemed very against it, all week."

Well, all week I'd thought that five vampires with a diet consisting of the blood of the innocent were attending my school, which was a very good reason to be against it, in my opinion. Not that I was planning on telling Charlize that– there was no point in worrying her about something she had no control over.

"I reserve the right to pull out if I decide to," I warned, though, and she nodded, looking reluctant but accepting.

"Okay. It's a deal."

-

My first weekend in Forks went without incident. Charlize worked most of both days. I finished my homework, got ahead on my classwork, and finally read the English texts. On Sunday I drove to the library, but didn't bother to get a card– Abel had been right, there wasn't anything interesting in it I hadn't read; I would have to visit Olympia or Seattle soon and find a good bookstore. I wondered idly what kind of gas mileage the truck got... and then winced at the thought.

People greeted me in the parking lot Monday morning. I didn't know all their names, but I tried to smile at everyone. It was colder this morning, but at least it wasn't raining. In English, McKayla took her (unfortunately) now-normal seat by my side. We had a pop quiz on ' _Wuthering Heights'_ , which after all the hours I'd spent reading it on Saturday was straightforward, very simple.

All in all, I was feeling a lot more comfortable than I had thought I would feel by this point.

When we walked out of class, the air was full of swirling bits of white. I could hear people shouting excitedly to each other. The wind was freezing against my cheeks, my nose.

"Wow," McKayla said. "It's snowing!"

I looked skeptically at the little cotton fluffs that were building up along the sidewalk and swirling erratically past my face. Snowing? Really? This was _nothing_ like a Hogwarts snowstorm; heavy and freezing, deeply burying the grounds of the school so the trek to the greenhouses for Herbology and the groundkeeper, Ruby Hagrid's, hut for Care of Magical Creatures meant stumbling through snow that could reach knee-deep.

It also meant making snow angels with Lyric, having snowball fights with the Gryffindors, and ducking the flying snowballs the twins charmed to chase people around the school (mainly Slytherins).

I was surprised to realize I was blinking away tears. McKayla was looking up at me with a concerned expression on her face that reminded me why I hadn't just ditched her already– she might be a pain in the arse, but under it all she meant well.

"Are you okay, Beau?" she asked, softly.

"I'm fine." I said, in a voice that was croakier then I meant for it to be. She opened her mouth, probably to keep pushing, only for a big, wet ball of dripping snow smacked into the back of her head.

We both turned to see where it came from. I suspected Erica, who was walking away, her back toward us– in the wrong direction for her next class. McKayla clearly had the same idea, bending over and beginning to scrape together a pile of white mush, eyes on Erica's retreating figure.

"I'll see you at lunch, okay?" I kept walking as I spoke, silently thanking Erica for getting me out of an awkward conversation and vowing to do something nice for her.

I kept a sharp lookout on the way to the cafeteria with Jeremy after History. Mush balls were flying everywhere, and the binder I was using as a shield had bits of dirty ice melting on it.

McKayla caught up to us as we walked in the doors, laughing, her usually sleek hair turning frizzy from the wet. She and Jeremy were talking animatedly about a snow fight at the table, and I zoned them out to talk with Abel instead about the book he'd read over the weekend– Stephen King's ' _The Shining'_. When that somehow led to the joint realisation of our shared love for Monty Python, we decided to schedule a movie night.

After, I reflected that while I might not ever find another Lyric, Abel seemed like a nice guy and getting to know him wouldn't hurt. Though why he hung around with Jeremy and Logan, I had no idea; I put it down to them knowing each other since kindergarten. That had to forge some sort of bond.

When the bell rang I didn't really want to walk to class with McKayla like usual– she seemed to be a popular target for snowballs– but when we got to the door, everyone besides me groaned in unison. It was raining, washing all traces of the snow away in clear, icy ribbons down the side of the walkway. This would never have happened at Hogwarts, I couldn't help but think scornfully– in Britain when it snowed, it bloody _snowed_.

Much to my exasperation, McKayla kept up a string of complaints all the way to building four. Once inside the classroom, I was relieved she had to move away to her own seat. Edythe's chair was still empty and I settled myself as Mrs. Banner walked around the room, distributing one microscope and box of slides to each table.

When Edythe entered the classroom, for the first time I didn't actively try to... well, not _ignore_ her so much as _avoid_ her. She seemed surprised when I offered her a small smile, but she returned it swiftly enough.

Mrs. Banner started the class and I tried to concentrate as she explained the lab we would be doing today. The slides in the box were out of order. Working as lab partners, we had to separate the slides of onion root tip cells into the phases of mitosis they represented and label them accordingly. We weren't supposed to use our books. In twenty minutes, she would be coming around to see who had it right.

"Get started," she commanded.

 _Bollocks_ , I thought– I'd been hoping she'd give me one last flip through the textbook. Turning to Edythe, I resigned myself to what was going to be an embarrassing conversation.


	10. Chapter Nine:

**CHAPTER NINE:**

"Ladies first, partner?" Edythe asked, her full, pink mouth curving into a perfect dimpled smile.

"Sure," I said, more then happy to let her do as many of the slides as possible– I remembered that 100% on her pop quiz, and I couldn't even name all the phases of mitosis. Of course, I'd like her to name all of Gamp's laws of transfiguration, explain why porcupine quills should never be added to a cauldron while it was still over an open flame or turn a cat into a tea kettle.

Edythe tugged the microscope to her side of the table and studied the first slide for a quarter second– maybe less. I almost felt like advising her normal humans took a little longer then that to visually process something.

"Prophase."

She switched out the slide for the next, then paused and looked up at me.

"Or did you want to check?" she challenged. I shrugged, not rising to it.

"You'd know better then I would."

She smiled slightly at that and wrote the word _Prophase_ neatly on the top line of our worksheet. Her handwriting was beautiful, like she'd taken classes in penmanship, looping all her letters in perfect calligraphy. If my guess was right, and she had taken penmanship lessons, then I'd estimate that the latest likely time for her being Turned would be the early 1900's.

She barely even glanced through the microscope at the second slide before writing _Anaphase_ on the next line and as she moved the next slide into place I took advantage of her diverted attention to stare.

Now that I didn't feel like my life was in danger, I couldn't help but be curious– I'd never been so close to a vampire before. Aside from her coven, the only other vampire I'd seen outside of my textbooks was the one who attended Professor Slughorn's Christmas party. The vampire, Ambrosia, had been an unearthly sort of beautiful, with the type of body that could reduce a classical sculptor to weeping tears of envy and begging her to be their model; her elegantly pinned up dark hair had been a direct contrast to her ivory skin, and her eyes the color of freshly spilled blood.

Edythe was... impossibly lovelier, and it wasn't just because I could look at her without being consumed by the unpleasant cocktail of fear, horror and disgust I'd felt toward Ambrosia, who murdered muggles to stay alive.

Suddenly Edythe's head flipped up, golden eyes to the front of the class, just before Mrs. Banner called out, "Miss Cullen?"

"Yes, Mrs. Banner?" Edythe slid the microscope toward me as she spoke.

"Perhaps you should let Mr. Swan have an opportunity to learn?"

"Of course, Mrs. Banner."

Edythe turned and gave me a well, go ahead then look. I silently cursed. _Bollocks_ , _bollocks_ , _bollocks_.

Bending down to look through the eyepiece I could sense she was watching, which for once I considered fair, seeing as I'd just been staring at her for once. It still made me feel awkward, like just inclining my head was a clumsy move.

And I couldn't figure out the bloody slide. My mind had gone completely blank. Straightening up, I decided to be bluntly honest with her. "I'm really sorry," I said, awkwardly, "but... well, this week is the first time I've ever studied biology, and I honestly couldn't even name all the mitosis phases if I tried, let alone identify them."

Her golden eyes widened in surprise and slight confusion. "Really? Why did you enroll in this class then?" She asked, puzzled.

"It was Charlize's– she's my mother– idea." I admitted. "I had a very narrow and limited selection of subjects from... before I moved to Forks, and with the other subjects I'm doing, I had to pick one of the sciences. Charlize said that Biology at least had some crossover with PE."

Edythe looked intrigued. "Which school did you go to before you moved here?" She asked, which was exactly the question I didn't want her to ask.

"I didn't exactly go to a typical sort of school," I said, slowly. "And the subjects there weren't exactly the sort that are studied here."

"You realize that doesn't answer my question at all," Edythe said, lightly, and I could feel the heat on my cheeks.

"It was that obvious?" I didn't try denying it. Edythe smiled.

"Only a little. Next time add a deflection at the end." I blinked.

"Are you giving me tips on how to lie better?" I asked, and her perfect smile widened.

"Maybe." She said and I couldn't help my surprised laugh.

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

"Here, slide me the microscope." She said. I did as she said and our hands accidentally brushed. This time though I didn't flinch at how icy cold they were, having expected it. Still, they felt like she'd been holding them in a snowdrift before class– I couldn't imagine how she could ever pass it away as human.

"You're right, it's metaphase." She said, speaking louder then she needed to. I was confused but then I noticed movement in my peripheral, Mrs. Banner moving away from us, apparently satisfied with my involvement in the task she'd set.

"Thank you," I told Edythe, "really."

She flashed me a smile and the instinctive thrill of fear that licked down my spine at the sight of those too perfect, too white teeth made me shiver in something that was closer to anticipation then fear.

"No problem, partner. And the last slide is no mystery." She said, writing the words _Metaphase_ and _Telophase_ onto the last two lines of the worksheet in perfect calligraphy.

We were finished long before anyone else was close. I could see McKayla and her partner comparing two slides again and again, and another pair had their book open under the table.

Mrs. Banner came to our table again, looking over our shoulders to glance at the completed lab, and then stared more intently to check the answers.

"So, Edythe," Mrs. Banner began.

"Beau identified half of the slides," Edythe said before Mrs. Banner could finish.

Mrs. Banner looked at me now; her expression was skeptical. I tried to arrange my features into something believable.

"Have you done this lab before?" she asked.

"I spent half of Saturday going over the biology textbook," I said honestly. "This course is pretty different from my old school. Do you run a workshop at lunch times, or have any office times I can visit you in if I have questions?" Mrs. Banner looked surprised but she informed me of the times easily enough and I wrote them down in the margin of my notebook.

"Now that was excellent deflection." Edythe praised me when she left, going to go tell off the pair with the book under the table.

"Thanks." I said, smiling.

"So, too bad about the snow, right?"

I arched an eyebrow at her– it was a skill I had perfected using a mirror (Lyric and Gordy had laughed themselves sick).

"Are you actually asking me about the weather?" I asked.

"Maybe," she said, with a soft laugh that sounded like chiming bells.

"Well, it's not much of a shame." I answered her question about the not-snow.

"You don't like the cold." It wasn't a question, but I answered it anyway.

"I don't mind it. Not really. The rain's annoying, sure, but the cold's fine. I like real snow, though, not dirty, slushy ice." I explained.

"Real snow?" she asked, looking amused. I shrugged.

"You know, the sort that when you step outside you can't see more then a few feet from your face and you have to wear boots because you end up sinking in past your ankles..." my voice trailed off, memories of winters at Hogwarts momentarily overwhelming me, and bringing with them a powerful nostalgia, as well as a sense of grief.

When I focused back on Edythe, the amusement was gone from her face, replaced by something softer, though her long, dark gold eyes were confused. "I thought you were from Phoenix," she said, her tone gentle.

"I am," I told her, because that was sort of true. "I've spent a lot of time abroad, though."

"Am I going to get a straight answer if I ask why? Or where?" she asked.

"Probably not," I admitted. She nodded.

"That's fair enough," she said. "What about if I ask whether or not you like Forks? Will I get a truthful answer?"

"You can always ask and see," I said, only realizing after I said it how flirtatious it sounded. Edythe didn't seem upset, though, a half smile dancing along her full, pink lips.

"Are you enjoying living in Forks, Beau?" I paused for a long moment, then answered honestly.

"Yes and no. It's good spending time with Charlize, sure, but..." I trailed off, thinking of Lyric and Gordy, and Harri, Hermes, Ronda and Neve, and even Irvine and Shaun and the twins. "I miss my friends." I told her, quietly. "So much it hurts."

"You can't see them?" Edythe asked, her voice softening. I shook my head.

"It's complicated." I muttered.

"I think I can keep up," she said, smiling just enough for a hint of dimples to show.

"I know you could," I said, honestly. "You're wicked smart, Edythe. It's just not something I can talk about." She gave me a long look and then nodded.

"Alright. I suppose you'll have to remain a frustrating enigma to me." She gave an overly tragic sigh that made me smile again, which judging by the satisfaction on her face was what she'd aimed for.

"You're much nicer then you pretend to be," I told her, without really thinking it through. Edythe looked surprised for a moment then shrugged lightly.

"You bring it out in me." She said, and despite the light tone she'd used it was a heavy enough statement that I didn't really know how to respond. She spoke first, though. "I don't entirely understand you."

"Does anyone ever really understand another person?" I countered. Edythe tilted her head to the side.

"Maybe not, but reading people... it usually comes very easily to me. But I can't– I suppose I don't know quite what to make of you. Is that funny?"

"More... unexpected." I said, trying to flatten my grin. "My best friend, sometimes it was like he knew what I was thinking before I did, and Gor– another friend used to call me an open book; he said he could all but read my thoughts written out across my forehead."

Edythe's smile vanished and she half-glared into my eyes, not angry, just intense. As if she was trying hard to read those words Gordy had seen. Then, switching gears just as abruptly, she was smiling again. "I suppose I've gotten overconfident."

I didn't know what to say to that. "Um, sorry?"

She laughed, showing those blinding white teeth again and causing another shiver to run down my spine.

Mrs. Banner called the class to order then, and I was relieved to give her my attention. It was a little too intense, making small talk that wasn't quite just small talk with Edythe. I felt dizzy in a strange way, and wary– Edythe had seemed almost too interested in what I had to say. I tried to focus as Mrs. Banner went through the lab with transparencies on the overhead projector, but my thoughts were far away from the lecture.

When the bell rang, Edythe rose gracefully to her feet. "I'll see you tomorrow, partner," she said, with her dimpled smile, before she swiftly crossed the room, disappearing out the door. McKayla got to my table almost as quickly.

"That was awful," she complained. "They all looked exactly the same. You're lucky you had Edythe for a partner."

"Yeah, she seemed to know her way around an onion root."

"She seemed really friendly," McKayla commented as we shrugged into our raincoats. She didn't sound happy about it.

I couldn't concentrate on McKayla's chatter as we walked to Gym, and P.E. didn't do much to hold my interest, either, though I made sure to pay enough attention that I didn't accidentally hurt someone– volleyball might not be as complicated as Quidditch, and the balls not as hard, but that didn't mean they didn't pack a punch of their own.

I changed quickly, as had become my routine in order to avoid McKayla, and the rain was just a mist as I walked to the parking lot, though I was still pretty damp when I got in the truck. I turned the heat up as high as it could go, for once not caring about the mind-numbing roar of the engine, just happy to be heading home and leaving behind the dangerous temptation that was Edythe Cullen.


	11. Chapter Ten:

**CHAPTER TEN:**

When I opened my eyes in the morning, something was different. It was the light. It was still the gloomy light of a cloudy day in the forest, but it was clearer somehow. I realized there was no fog obscuring my window and as I dragged myself out of bed and shuffled over to look out I couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of my mouth.

Now this was _real_ snow. A light layer of it covered the yard, dusted the top of my truck, and whitened the road. All the rain from yesterday had frozen solid, too, coating the needles on the trees in crazy, beautiful patterns. It had also made the driveway an ice slick, but I felt that was a small price to pay.

Charlize had left before I got downstairs– half the time it felt like I was living alone. It bothered me more then I thought it would.

The weather having put me in a nostalgic but cheerful mood, I made myself porridge over the stove for breakfast. As I poured myself a glass of orange juice from the carton I wondered if I could google a recipe for pumpkin juice.

It took me longer then it should have to really register the fact that I was excited about going to school, and when I actually paused to think about that it sent a pang of worry through me. I knew it wasn't the oh-so 'stimulating' learning environment I was anticipating, or seeing my new set of 'friends'. If I was being honest with myself, which years of being best friends with Lyric had taught me to be, I knew I was eager to get to school because I would get to see Edythe Cullen again. And that was very, very stupid.

Distracting thoughts of watching her lips move, marveling at her skin and listening to her voice had me honestly in fear of the loss of my sanity– soft, squishy, breakable humans with our five and a half liters of blood pumping under fragile, easy to tear open skin did not mesh well with vampires.

Things could _never_ go well for a human who got mixed up with a vampire. And I wanted to live long enough to see Lyric and Gordy and Harri, Hermes, Ronda and Neve again. Getting involved with Edythe in any way was a Bad Idea.

Not that I was holding any sort of unrealistic romantic ideas– I was well aware that even if the whole vampire bit was taken out of the equation, my league and her league were spheres that did not touch. Maybe a few of the other girls were intrigued by the novelty of the new kid, but Edythe wasn't a McKayla or an Erica.

And that was a good thing, I reminded myself firmly. I needed to stay away from Edythe, and I definitely should _not_ be excited to see her again.

Walking down the icy driveway was like the time Lyric had convinced me to go ice-skating on the Black Lake, except without the skates. I almost lost my balance twice, the second time having to cling to the side mirror of my truck to save myself. The Thing proved its awesomeness, though, as I had no trouble navigating the black ice that covered the roads.

When I got out of my truck at school, though, I discovered why I'd had so little trouble. Something silver caught my eye, and I walked to the back of the truck– carefully holding the side for support– to examine my tires. There were thin chains crisscrossed in diamond shapes around them. Charlize had gotten up who knows how early to put snow chains on my truck.

I frowned, surprised that my throat suddenly felt tight. That wasn't the way it was supposed to work. I probably should have been the one to think about putting chains on her tires, if I could figure out how to do that. Or at least I should have helped her with the chore. It wasn't her job...

Except that, actually, it kind of was. She was the parent. She was taking care of me, her son. That was how it worked in books and movies, but it made me feel upside down in a strange way.

I was standing by the back corner of the truck, struggling to contain the sudden wave of emotion the snow chains had brought on, when I heard a strange sound.

It was a high-pitched screech, and almost as soon as I registered it, the sound was already painfully loud. I looked up, startled.

I saw several things simultaneously, the adrenaline rush making my brain work faster, letting me absorb several things in clear detail all at once.

Edythe Cullen was standing four cars down from me, mouth open in horror. Her face stood out from a sea of faces, all frozen in the same mask of shock. Also, a dark blue van was skidding, tires locked and squealing against the brakes, spinning wildly across the ice of the parking lot. It was going to hit the back corner of my truck, and I was standing between them.

 _Bollocks_ ; I thought, and, without pausing to think how utterly dead I was if I messed this up, dove for the hopefully relative safety of the ground under my truck.

I hit the ground of the parking lot with a _crack_ of breaking ice, half sliding, half rolling into safety under the still warm metal of The Thing's underbelly. I blinked and, for the length of a single heartbeat, my brain struggled to comprehend the image of the sudden appearance of Edythe, her slim, dainty form crouched between my beloved truck and the skidding van that was now less then a foot away. _What the–?_

And then the pain hit. My vision turned white as fiery agony climbed up the length of my left arm and I realized, belatedly, that there hadn't been enough ice underneath me to have caused the _crack_ ing sound I'd heard.

When I could see again, albeit with very blurry vision due to all the tears, Edythe was gone, leaving me to wonder if I'd imagined the whole thing. But there had been no reason for my mind to have conjured up something so bizarre, and I was left with the slightly uncomfortable and very startling conclusion that yes, Edythe had just risked exposing her, er, lack of humanness to me, in order to save my life– though I thought I had done a pretty good job myself, all things considered, even taking my left arm into the equation. 

And _sweet Rowena_ , my arm! I was at least eighty-five percent sure I had dislocated my shoulder when I'd hit the ground. Agony spiked along the entire length of it whenever I so much as twitched a finger. My eyes were watering in pain, but I kept my whimpers of anguish as quiet and manly as possible. I didn't really need to though– all the screaming I could hear from the onlookers drowned out any sound I was making.

By the time the students and teachers managed to move the van, the ambulances had arrived and I awkwardly crawled out from under my truck. I was greeted by a bombardment of relieved babbling from the students and teachers. More then one face was wet with tears, all of them shouting, a whole flurry of activity.

I was much more relieved then I thought I'd be to be laid out on a stretcher by the paramedics and then wheeled into an ambulance– partly because it got me away from all the staring and hysterics from my peers, partly because I'd just spotted Charlize's cruiser pull into the car-park, but mostly because of the sweet siren call of pain killer meds. Before the doors of the ambulance closed, though, I caught a glimpse of Edythe's face– it was paler then usual, bone-white and horrified.

The drive to the hospital passed in a dizzying whir of pain and trying not to throw up. At least the paramedics didn't use the sirens, though they'd tried– not wanting to cause even more a spectacle, I'd managed to convince them not to, reminding them that I wasn't dying (just in a very large amount of extreme discomfort).

It was a very different pain then Rosier's cutting curse– that had been the agony of nerve after nerve being carved open, the magic of the spell slicing like a blade down all layers of skin, scraping against cartilage and cutting into muscle. This was an entirely different sort of agony, one of bone scraping against bone whenever the ambulance ran over an uneven bit of road; a sharp, stabbing pain that didn't start to fade like the pain from the cut had, as the blood loss caused my fingers to go numb and my energy to drain until I couldn't even keep my eyes open, the loss of consciousness following just moments later.

When the ambulance finally arrived at the county hospital I was beyond relieved at the thought of the painkillers that were soon to come my way, though I had to cringe when I saw Charlize standing there– my ambulance must have had a police escort, which was just _fabulous_. There went my efforts towards not wanting to cause a spectacle. Should have just used the bloody siren after all.

"Beau!" She exclaimed as I was wheeled out, her face visibly panicked.

"I'm going to live," I assured her in a voice that was much steadier then I'd thought it would be. Charlize rounded on the closest EMT for a second opinion while they unloaded me, and I tuned them out as he talked her down.

The EMTs put me in the emergency room, a long room with a line of beds separated by pastel-patterned curtains, and a nurse put a pressure cuff on the arm that wasn't causing me extreme amounts of tear-inducing agony.

There was another flurry of hospital personnel as a second stretcher was brought to the bed next to me. I vaguely recognized Taylor Crowley from my Home Ec. class beneath the bloodstained bandages wrapped tightly around her head. She looked terrible, but she was still staring anxiously at me.

"Beau, I'm so sorry!"

"I'm mostly in one piece," I tried to assure her. She must have been the one driving the van. "Are you all right?" I asked, in an attempt to divert her attention away from me. As I spoke, the nurses began unwinding her bloody bandages, exposing dozens of shallow slices all over her forehead and left cheek, some of which were going to need stitches.

Taylor ignored my deflection entirely. "I thought I was going to kill you! I was going too fast, and I hit the ice wrong..." She winced as one nurse started dabbing at her face. "How did you get out of the way so fast? You were there, and then you were gone!"

"I have very good reflexes." I answered truthfully. To my relief, a nurse came then and wheeled me away, off to X-Ray my shoulder. The way one of them visibly winced when the material of my jacket and shirt was cut away made me reluctant to look at the damage myself, but I did so anyway. My first thought was that I wanted to be sick. With wide eyes, I gaped at the red swelling of my shoulder. The muscle was bulging sickeningly, a yellowish hint to the bruises visible. I had to swallow back bile as I realized that a _bone_ was causing the protrusion.

"Merlin's balls," I croaked and worked on not passing out.

The X-Ray quickly showed that it was indeed dislocated, not broken, which was a small mercy but one I was glad of. The moment they'd confirmed it I'd requested some painkillers, but an apologetic nurse said it was the doctor who could prescribe me the meds and I found myself wheeled back to the emergency room trying not to cry. It _really_ hurt.

Thankfully, I only had to suffer about two minutes of Taylor's constant apologies and promises to make it up to me before a doctor walked around the corner. I very carefully made sure my mouth didn't fall open. She was young, she was blond, and she was more beautiful than any movie star I'd ever seen. Like someone had taken all the best parts of Audrey Hepburn, Grace Kelly, and Marilyn Monroe, and magicked them together to form one goddess– or, to be more precise, to form one vampire.

This, obviously, was Dr. Christina Cullen.

"So, Mr. Swan," She asked in a gentle voice, "how are you feeling?"

"Awful. Can I please get some pain killers?" I asked.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to set your shoulder first," she said, and I gritted my teeth as she carefully placed both of her ice cold hands on my injured shoulder. "It's going to be quick but painful." She said, her beautiful voice calm. "I'm going to count to three, okay?"

"Uh, I've seen the movie and read the book and all that, I know the whole one, two, three trick where you actually go on the one or the two because it'll hurt more if you brace yourself for the pain and surprise makes it as painless as possible, and I think I'd actually be more surprised if you popped it back when you said three then on one or two," I said, only babbling and stammering slightly– I absolutely blamed the pain, not her proximity, on my flustered state.

Dr. Cullen laughed, and holy humping hippogriffs that was an unfairly hot sound that _really_ didn't help in my attempts to not be so obviously attracted to the vampire who was probably a mother figure to Edythe (and because she was a vampire, of course, which was _absolutely_ more important then the Edythe's mom thing).

Dr. Cullen smiled and I tried to remember how to breathe properly. "Alright then," she said, thoughtfully, "I suppose we could always–" And without even a blink, or a waver in her voice to give her away, Dr. Cullen suddenly and swiftly _pulled_ , _twisted_ and _pushed_.

I felt the near-instant relief of the bone sliding back in place. And I also felt the momentary, but very extreme, agony of the process; my whole left arm suddenly being stabbed by a thousand red-hot needles. I let out the foulest curse I knew (" _Fucking fuck shit fuck fuck_ fuck!"), followed by a sound that was undeniably a sob, though I would, absolutely, deny it.

And then I passed out.

-

"Beau," something was tapping my head in an irritating rhythm. "Beau, can you hear me?"

I tried to slap the annoying finger away.

"Beau," the tapping grew more insistent.

"Lyric, it's too early for finding snorckacks," I mumbled into my pillow. When the tapping _still_ didn't stop I groaned and opened my eyes. Then I blinked, because I definitely wasn't in my four poster in the Ravenclaw dormitory, or Lyric's bedroom, or the Burrow, or even the Lovegood's magical tent in Sweden.

The events of the last hour came rushing back and I immediately sat up, only for my vision to black out for a second. Icy cold hands supported me until I blinked away the black dots. "Easy there," Dr. Cullen said, soothingly.

I tried to use my arms to support myself then frowned as I realized that something was restricting my movements. I turned to look and then let out a groan as I stared down at the cast that encased my left shoulder and the sling that supported it, looping around my forearm and the nape of my neck. Tiny pinpricks of pain were running through my shoulder, but they were mild and tolerable, unlike before.

This... this was going to be very embarrassing. And inconvenient. Bloody bollocking _bollocks_.

"How soon can I take it off?" I asked, glumly.

"Not for a few weeks, I'm afraid," Dr. Cullen said, apologetically. I slumped down and thought wistfully about how Healer Pomfrey could heal broken bones with a flick of his wand, or if they were too badly mangled (Quidditch accidents– bludgers could be bloody _brutal_ ) then he'd just vanish the bone, or bones, and use a potion to regrow them. A dislocated shoulder would have been fixed with a single spell, a sip of swelling solution, and a dab of bruise paste.

At least I'd finally been given my painkillers while I was out, though Dr. Cullen warned me I'd be stuck here for at least an hour as Charlize needed to fill out a whole bunch of forms relating to insurance and my lack of medical records– I tried not to look too guilty or suspicious-looking when she mentioned that.

Much to my horror, they'd brought Taylor back in and I eventually had to close my eyes and try to ignore her when she kept begging for forgiveness. I'd already given it to her the first time she'd asked for it, for Circe's sake! Why couldn't she just please _shut up?_

"Is he sleeping?" a musical voice asked. My eyes immediately flew open.

Edythe was standing at the foot of my bed and I stared at her, wondering _why_.

Why had she risked so much to try and save me? Why would she do something so reckless, so _dangerous_ , for _me_?

"So what's the verdict?" she asked, moving to sit on the edge of my bed, near my feet. I tried to remember if I'd had a shower this morning and if my socks were clean.

"Dislocated shoulder and some bumps and bruises." I said, going to shrug and then wincing when my shoulder complained. "Your mom already popped my shoulder back into place, and as soon as Char– my mom finishes filling in a stack of forms I'm free to go."

"I feel I should warn you that most of the school seems to be in the waiting room," Edythe said and I groaned.

" _Great_."

She laughed, her golden eyes sparkling with mischief as she pulled something from her pocket. It took me a moment to identify the object as a black sharpie, but I understood immediately.

"No," I said. "Absolutely not. Nobody can even see the cast and people don't sign slings, so _no_."

"Please?" Edythe said, and I made the tragic mistake of looking and meeting her gaze. It was like the gold of her eyes had turned up, like her eyes were drugging me, hypnotizing me. It was devastating in a weird, exciting way. _Oh balls_.

"Fine." I sighed, and when the sight of her sharp, perfect teeth flashing in a blinding white smile failed to send a shiver of fear down my spine, I realized something I should have realized much earlier– I didn't know how it had happened, or why, or where the bloody hell my survival instinct had gone, but I could no longer deny it; for some bizarre, unknowable and yet undeniable reason, I was falling for a vampire.


	12. Chapter Eleven:

**CHAPTER ELEVEN:**

Despite how after my realization that I had a crush on Edythe Cullen it felt like _everything_ had changed, in truth very little did.

The month following the accident settled into a routine of sorts. I'd found myself once more the center of attention for the remainder of the week following the accident, which had really sucked. Taylor Crowley was especially annoying, following me around, coming up with different hypothetical ways to make it up to me. I'd tried to convince her that what I wanted more than anything else was for her to forget about it, but she wouldn't give up. She found me between classes and even started to sit at the now-crowded lunch table. McKayla and Erica hadn't liked that at all, flashing more side-eye at her than they did at each other.

Following that week, I started to make a much more active effort to remove myself from the group, studying in the library for my classes at lunch like a good little Ravenclaw. I was polite to Edythe in Biology, but didn't initiate conversation, something that was made easier by both the fact we hadn't needed to do any more lab work together so far, and that she seemed to be trying to put distance between us too.

I didn't blame her for being spooked _–_ the risk she'd taken, the risk of exposing her inhuman status to me, had been... a little humbling, honestly. And she didn't know if I'd actually seen anything or not, and obviously there was no way for me to try and reassure her about the situation. Which left us both being politely distant.

Unfortunately this had McKayla getting more confident about approaching me in Biology, even sitting on the edge of my table at times to talk before class started.

During this time, I'd only managed to tune into Potterwatch a handful of times. Each broadcast, though, had started to leave me with an uneasy, sinking feeling that lasted for days, as they'd started to list the names of the missing and the dead, holding a minute's silence to honour them.

My sleeping had started to really suffer, and I'd find myself waking in the middle of the night on the verge of panic attacks or absolutely terrified; shivering and soaked in sweat. Sometimes I'd be crying. On one particularly memorable occasion, I'd woken to the sound of my own screaming, an image of Lyric's lifeless body burned into my retinas.

I hadn't really bothered to mark the passing of time _–_ it was far too depressing to think about how far away my seventeenth still was, though I did note when it was finally time to get the cast removed. Dr. Cullen had then replaced the cast and sling with a brace to wear under my clothes, which was much more discrete and didn't impede my movements. Her face had been concerned as I sat on the edge of the hospital bed, and I guessed it was the bags under my eyes that rivaled the purple shadows under her own that had caused it, or maybe it was the way my face looked about one missed meal away from gaunt.

I had no idea that Spring was anywhere near appearing until I was walking listlessly to the cafeteria one rainy morning, having only slept about three hours, and Jeremy fell into step beside me. "Hey, Beau?" he asked, and despite my wanting to get out of the rain, Jeremy was barely shuffling forwards and in the spirit of good manners I slowed my pace to match his.

"What's up?" I asked, trying to inject some life into my voice.

"I was just wondering if anyone's asked you to the spring dance yet. You know, it's girls' choice."

I didn't know, actually– Hogwarts had only ever held one dance. It happened during my third year, though it had technically been labeled as a ball and had only been for fourth years and up. As a third year, I couldn't attend unless I'd been invited by someone from one of the higher year levels, which I hadn't. Lyric had gone, having been invited by Neve, though they'd gone strictly as friends. Neve had originally asked Gordy (also as friends) but Gordy had told her that he and I were planning on spending the night eating large amounts of chocolate pudding to try and heal our broken hearts. That had been the original plan, anyway– when Gordy found the Firewhiskey in Georgina's trunk... well, like they say, the rest is history.

Still, I wasn't about to let Jeremy know that I hadn't a bloody clue what he was talking about, so I just nodded and tried to look like I understood what he was going on about. It seemed simple enough– a dance that girls invited boys to, instead of the other way around, as it traditionally went.

"No one's invited me," I told him.

"Huh." He said. "Do you want... I mean, do you think McKayla will ask you?"

"I hope not," I said, maybe a little too fast.

He looked up at me, surprised. "Why not?"

"I... don't do dances."

"Oh."

We shuffled forward for a minute in silence. He was thoughtful. I was impatient to get out of the drizzle.

"Do you mind if I tell her that?" he asked.

"No. That's probably a good idea. I don't want to have to tell anyone no if I don't have to."

"Okay." He looked far more cheerful now.

"When's the dance again?" I asked. We were close to the cafeteria now, and Jeremy pointed to a bright yellow poster advertising the dance. I'd never noticed it before, but it was curling around the edges and a little washed out, like it had been up for a while.

"A week from Saturday," he said.

I was pretty sure Jeremy had already said something to her when, the next morning, McKayla was not her usual bubbly self in English. I stayed in the library during lunch, but she came over like usual to sit on the edge of my lab table at the start of Biology. And, as always, I was far too aware of Edythe sitting close enough to touch.

"So," McKayla said, looking at the floor instead of at me. "Jeremy said that you don't do dances."

"Yeah."

She looked at me then, her expression hurt and a little angry. I hadn't even told her no yet and I already felt guilty.

"Oh," she said. "I thought maybe he was making it up."

"Sorry, it's true." I said.

She frowned. "I thought he just wanted me to ask him."

I forced a smile. "You should. Jeremy's great." Actually he was very average, but still...

McKayla shrugged. "I guess." Then she took a deep breath and looked me straight in the eye with a quick, nervous smile. "Would this 'I don't do dances' thing change if I was the one asking you to go?"

From the corner of my eye, I saw Edythe's head suddenly tilt in my direction. Like she was listening to my answer, too.

It took me a little too long to respond. I still felt guilty, but mostly distracted. Was Edythe listening?

"I'm sorry." I apologised again.

McKayla's face fell. "Would it change if someone else asked you?" She asked.

Did Edythe see how McKayla's eyes flickered in her direction?

And then I had a sudden brainwave.

"McKayla," I said, leaning forwards on my desk slightly, towards her. "I'm honestly flattered that you'd ask me to the dance. You're amazing and gorgeous," and maybe I was laying it on a little thick here, but I could see the way her face brightened at the compliments, "but before I moved to Forks, I just broke up with my boyfriend."

There. The wide-eyed, open-mouthed look on her face was... actually it was pretty damn perfect. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Edythe's wide gold eyes as she looked at me with the same blatant shock as McKayla.

" _Boy_ friend?" McKayla repeated.

" _Boyfriend_." I confirmed, with a nod.

"I... oh, wow, I didn't realize..." McKayla looked so gobsmacked that I was actually a bit worried for her.

"Miss Newton! Class is starting!" Mrs. Banner said sharply from the front of the room and McKayla gave me one last wide-eyed look before hurrying over to her seat as Mrs. Banner started the lecture.

"Was that true?" Edythe's voice shouldn't sound so familiar, like I'd been hearing it all my life instead of just an hour here and there a few weeks ago.

I turned slowly toward her, not wanting to feel what I knew I would feel when I looked at her too-perfect face.

"Were you telling her the truth?" she asked, and I was surprised by the bluntness of her question.

"Sort of." I said with a shrug that was only slightly stiff, my shoulder practically back to normal now. "It's hard to break up with someone when you were never actually dating them, but we did kiss once. He was already in love with someone else, though, and I was, well, I was learning how to move on."

I really had been happy for Gordy and Harri, like I said, but that didn't mean it hadn't hurt a bit. And Hermes, well, everyone with eyes knew that he was in love with Ronda _–_ everyone, that is, except Ronda herself.

When we'd snogged, while he was helping me figure out my big gay crisis, neither of us had ever intended for things to go anywhere and I had been fine with that. Hermes was freaking amazing and gorgeous but we weren't meant to be.

"So you're gay?" Edythe's perfect eyebrows were drawn together in confusion– she'd seen me staring at her, on the odd occasions when I couldn't quite manage to look away, and was obviously puzzled.

"I'm bisexual. Well, closer to pansexual, really, though I try not to use labels to define myself. I find some boys attractive and some girls attractive and some people I just don't feel attracted to at all." I explained. Edythe looked at me with clear intrigue.

"You're letting McKayla assume you're gay, though," she said and I nodded.

"Yes. _Definitely_."

"And you're not concerned you might be ostracized or bullied when she inevitably shares that with the other students?" Edythe pressed.

"Have I at any point that you're aware of actually given a damn about what anyone here thinks of me?" I asked, smiling slightly to make my words less harsh. Edythe tilted her head slightly.

"What about me?" she asked, and my throat went dry. "Do you care about what I think of you?"

 _Say no, say no, say no_ ; "Yes." For an admittance so shameful, it escaped my lips far too easily. Edythe didn't say anything, but her eyes kept boring into mine, like she was trying to find something really important inside them. I continued to stare also, totally unable to break the connection, even if I wanted to. My hands started to shake.

"Miss Cullen?" the teacher called, looking for the answer to some question I hadn't heard.

"The Krebs Cycle," Edythe answered, seeming reluctant as she turned to look at Mrs. Banner.

I put my head down, pretending to stare at my book, as soon as her eyes released me. It bothered me– the rush of emotion pulsing through me, just because we'd shared our first proper conversation in around five or six weeks. It wasn't normal. It was actually pretty pathetic, and probably more than that. Unhealthy.

I tried hard not to be aware of her for the rest of the class, or, since that was impossible, at least not to let her know that I was aware of her. When the bell finally rang, I quickly started to stack my books, only for Edythe to speak up.

"Beau?"

I turned slowly toward her. I'm sure my expression was guarded; hers was unreadable. She didn't say anything.

"Yes?" I asked.

She just looked at me.

"Wait, are we talking again?" I wondered, out loud.

"No," she said, but her lips curled up into a smile, her dimples flashing.

"Okay." Well, it wasn't _okay_ , but it was the right thing to do; I _knew_ that.

"I'm sorry," she said, and there was no humour in her voice now. "I'm being very rude, I know. But it's better this way, really."

"It's okay." I repeated. "Really."

"It's better if we're not friends." She insisted anyway, and the honest sadness in her voice, well, it didn't make me feel better, but it at least made me feel less alone in my longing. "But," she added, "I do want you to know that I don't think there's anything wrong with you being attracted to boys, as well as girls. And... and I care about what you think of me too."

I was surprised and I couldn't help my smile. "Thanks Edythe. That means a lot." 

And it did. I felt like I was floating all through PE– we were doing basketball now– and as I walked back to my truck I almost felt like whistling.

The Thing was in pretty decent shape, all things considered. I'd had to replace the taillights after the accident, but that was it. If the paint job wasn't already hopeless, maybe I would have had to do something about the new scrapes. Taylor's parents had had to sell her van for parts.

I rounded a corner and then nearly had a heart attack. Someone small and thin was leaning against the side of my truck. I skidded to a stop and took a deep breath, calming my racing heart. It was just Erica. I started walking again.

"Hey, Erica," I called.

"Hi, Beau."

"What's up?" I asked as I unlocked the door. As I glanced over at her, I saw she looked really uncomfortable.

"Um, I was wondering if you would go to the spring dance with me?"

I really had to stop and look at her then. Her face was down, her black hair hiding her eyes. "I'm flattered, Erica, I really am," I told her gently, because I knew the sort of courage it took to approach someone you liked and put yourself out there like she was, like McKayla had. "But before I moved to Forks, I just broke up with my boyfriend."

She didn't look quite as shocked as McKayla had, but her mouth still formed an 'o' of surprise. "Holy crap. I didn't realize you were gay." She said, sounding stunned. "Wow."

"Yeah." I agreed. "Um, I'm sorry but I kind of have to..." I gestured at my truck and she nodded.

"Okay. Um. Yeah, okay." She backed off and I climbed into my truck, relieved.

I revved the deafening engine twice and reversed out into the aisle only for Edythe, in her shiny silver Volvo, to slide out into the lane in front of me, cutting me off. She stopped there– to wait for her family, I assumed. I could see the four of them walking this way, but they were still all the way back by the cafeteria. I looked in my rearview mirror. A line was beginning to form. Right behind me, Taylor Crowley was in her newly acquired used Sentra, waving. I ducked my head and pretended I couldn't see her.

While I was sitting there, focusing all my efforts on not staring at the driver in front of me, I heard a knock on my passenger side window. It was Taylor. I glanced in my mirror again, confused. Her Sentra was still running, the door left open. I leaned across the cab to crank the window down. It was stiff. I got it halfway there, then gave up.

"Sorry, Taylor, I can't move. I'm pinned in." I gestured to the Volvo. Obviously there was nothing I could do.

"Oh, I know– I just wanted to ask you something while we're trapped here." She grinned. What the _bloody hell_? What was with this school? Was it infected with wrackspurts?

"Will you go to the spring dance with me?" She asked.

"I'm sorry, Taylor, but I just broke up with my boyfriend." I realized I sounded too sharp. I had to remember it wasn't Taylor's fault that McKayla and Erica had already used up my patience.

"Yeah, McKayla told me you were gay," she admitted.

"Then why–"

She shrugged. "I was hoping you were just letting her down easy."

Okay, it was totally her fault.

"Sorry, Taylor," I said, not feeling bad at all like I had with McKayla and Erica.

"It's okay," she said, cheerful and unfazed, "I'll just have to work harder to convince you for prom." Before I could say anything, she was walking back to her car. I gaped, unable to close my jaw even as I turned back straight again.

Straight ahead, Archie, Royal, Eleanor, and Judith were all sliding into the Volvo. In the rearview mirror, I could see Edythe's eyes– staring at me. They were crinkled around the edges, and her shoulders were shaking with laughter. Obviously she'd heard everything Taylor had said, and found my reaction hilarious. I revved my engine threateningly, wondering how much damage it could do to the Volvo if I ran into it. I was pretty sure the answer was a lot.

But then they were all in, and Edythe was speeding away with her nearly silent engine, so I just drove home.


	13. Chapter Twelve:

**CHAPTER TWELVE:**

Apparently, now that I wasn't possible boyfriend material, McKayla had been given me the official title of Gay Best Friend.

The first time she had asked me what I thought about her shoes I'd just stared– I'd improved since then. At least it was a small price to pay to occasionally be required to offer a critique for her hair, or to put up with the stares, whispers and occasional shoulder shoving from some of the older boys. Only one student had called me a faggot– it hadn't actually bothered me, being called 'Mudblood' with such vitriol and disgust and hatred for years had made me all but immune to name-calling. I heard later, though, that Archie, who had been near enough to overhear him, had had words with that student, likely with the dangerous Judith lurking by his side, like she usually was, a silent but menacing presence. Nobody had dared call me a derogatory name to my face since.

And then McKayla started talking about me coming to the dance anyway and I could have torn out my own hair in my frustration.

"It doesn't matter if you don't have a partner," she said in Biology, leaning forwards in a way that put her cleavage very much at eye-level, something she didn't seem to be concerned about now that I was officially 'out of the closet'. "Nobody really even dances at these things, anyway," she said, with a small laugh, "they're just a chance to dress up and spend a Saturday night actually out doing something. There's pretty much nothing else to do in Forks."

I agreed with her about the Forks bit– there really was nothing to do here, and her words had also given me an idea.

"I'm sorry, McKayla, but I'm going to be in Seattle." Pretending to be very far away from Forks wouldn't be so hard with everyone from my year at the dance.

"Does it have to be that weekend?" McKayla asked, sounding disappointed. I was genuinely touched that she seemed to still want to spend time with me, even now that there was no chance of dating in our future, but I still had absolutely no intention of going to that dance.

"Yeah, I thought it would be a good day with everyone at the dance and I've already organized it all with Char– mom, sorry." I said.

"Will you come dress shopping with me?" McKayla asked, hopefully. "Becca, Erica and I are driving to Port Olympia after school on Friday, you can help give me advice."

Yep, definitely the Gay Best Friend I thought with a sigh. But I was feeling charitable towards McKayla, so before I could stop myself I nodded and her face lit up.

"It's going to be so much fun!" She exclaimed, and while Mrs. Banner entering the room had her sliding off my desk and heading back to her own, I was under no illusion that the conversation wasn't going to continue, and our trip to be planned in agonizing detail.

Edythe, until now a silent presence on the other side of the desk, spoke up. She sounded amused. "Dress shopping?"

"I know," I sighed. "I'm going to have to go to the library to read fashion magazines after school."

Edythe smiled. "As it happens, Archie owns more fashion magazines then the entire population of Forks does together. Definitely more then this town's pitiable excuse of a library."

"Is that an offer?" I asked. She grinned.

"Sit with me tomorrow and they're yours until Friday." My heart almost skipped a beat.

"We can't sit together," I reminded her. "We're not friends."

"I said it would be better if we weren't friends, not that I didn't want to be."

"Well that's as clear as mud." I couldn't help but comment. I understood her, though. More then she knew.

"It would be more... prudent for you not to be my friend," Edythe explained. "But I'm tired of trying to stay away from you, Beau." There was no humor in her face now. Her eyes were intense, narrowed, the long lines of her lashes stark black against her skin. Her voice had a strange heat to it. I couldn't remember how to breathe. Damn it, I thought helplessly. She was supposed to be the one with all the self-restraint– not me!

"Will you sit with me?" she asked, voice still burning. I couldn't speak, so I just nodded.

A quick smile reshaped her face, and then she was serious again. "You really should stay away from me," she warned.

"Yeah," I sighed. "I know. I think it's too late for that, though."

I was pretty sure I wasn't just falling for her anymore– I had fallen. Hard. I couldn't see this ending well, but I couldn't keep away from her. Without wanting to sound like some sort of trashy, teen romance, she was like the best of heroine, and I was the idiot who'd gotten himself hooked. How unbelievably Gryffindor of me.

-

I didn't sleep well. This was a recurring theme now, but the dream of Edythe? Now that was new.

In the dream it was very dark, and what dim light there was seemed to be radiating from Edythe's skin. I couldn't see her face, just her back as she walked away from me, leaving me in the blackness. No matter how fast I ran, I couldn't catch up to her; no matter how loud I called, she never turned. I got more and more frantic to get to her, until that anxiety woke me. It was the middle of the night, but I couldn't sleep again.

I already knew, before I even stepped out of my truck in the car park, that lunch was going to be a spectacle. The time leading up to lunch hour my stomach felt like it was tying itself in knots, and I practically had to drag myself to the cafeteria beside a chatting Jeremy.

Lining up, I couldn't even make myself look over at the coven's usual table. Buying food was useless; with as unsettled as my stomach was, it would only come right back up. I just grabbed a bottle of lemonade for something to carry.

"Edythe Cullen is staring at you again," Jeremy said, suddenly. "I wonder why she's sitting alone today."

I felt a small but significant amount of relief that I wouldn't have to face five vampires today. That didn't make facing one any less frightening, but it was easier.

I turned toward where Jeremy was looking, to where Edythe was sitting at an empty table across the cafeteria from where she usually sat.

Her dimples flashed as soon as she knew I'd seen her and she raised one hand and motioned with her index finger for me to join her. When I couldn't help but roll my eyes she just winked.

"Does she mean you?" Jeremy asked. There was an insult in his astonishment, but I didn't care. Much.

"Yep." I said.

" _Why_?!"

Okay, that was definitely insulting. "Obviously, she wants to carry my child." Jeremy gaped.

"I thought you were gay!"

How could I have _ever_ thought he was even slightly like Hermes? Clearly he was a moron.

"That was sarcasm, Jeremy." I told him, slowly. "We're partners in Biology. We arranged to catch up before class to go over something– this was the only time we were both free."

With that, I turned and strode away from Jeremy, over to Edythe. I could feel the eyes of most of the cafeteria burning into my back, but I determinedly pretended not to notice.

Edythe nudged the chair opposite her back with her foot and I sat down, placing my bottle of lemonade on the table in front of me. "Well." I said. "This is already embarrassing."

"Embarrassed to be seen with me?" She asked, amused.

"More like embarrassed for you," I retorted, and she laughed.

"I'm sure my reputation as hot but not worth wasting time on will survive. Your friends don't look happy, though."

"They'll survive too." I said, with a shrug. She grinned.

"I may not give you back, though."

I should definitely be a lot more terrified by that prospect.

"This is different." I said, after a pause that went on too long. Long enough that it should have felt uncomfortable– it didn't. I wasn't sure whether that was a bad sign or an awful one.

"Well," Edythe said, and then paused. I could tell there was more, so I waited. The rest of it followed in a rush, the words blurring together so that it took me a minute to decipher the meaning, just a tad bit too fast to be normal, to be human. "I decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly."

"Well, at least I'll have good company down there." I said. "Your face would probably make all the torture and hellfire worth it."

"Just my face?" She responded automatically, before pausing, a small frown on her face. "You think you're going to hell?"

"And the even more beautiful brain behind that face," I added, before shrugging. If hell existed, the Christian one anyway, well, the whole ' _thou shalt not suffer a witch to live_ ' thing probably sentenced me to the flames. "This conversation is getting very deep and profoundly meaningful. It's making me itch."

"Do you always deflect meaningful questions with jokes?" Edythe asked.

"Do you always deflect jokes with meaningful questions?" I countered. She sighed.

"You're almost making me rethink giving up."

"Giving up?" I asked, confused. "Giving up what?"

"I told you—I'm tired of trying to stay away from you. So I'm giving up." The smile was fading, and her eyes were serious by the end. "I'm giving up trying to be good. I'm just going to do what I want now, and let the chips fall where they may." The smile disappeared completely, and a hard edge crept into her silky voice.

"You realize that doesn't make much sense." I pointed out. She pulled a face.

"I know. I always say too much when I'm talking to you– that's one of the problems."

"If it makes you feel any better, I have the same issue." I admitted. We stared at each other for a few seconds, but the quiet wasn't awkward this time. It was more... charged. My face started to get hot.

"So," I said, looking away so that I could catch my breath. "In plain English, are we friends now?"

" _Friends_..." she murmured. She sounded like it wasn't her favorite word.

"Or not?" I offered.

"Well, we can try, I suppose. But I'm warning you again that I'm not a good friend for you to have." Her smile was brittle now, the warning real. I thought of white masks and black cloaks, of faceless murderers and the nameless dead, of skulls painting the night sky green and the terror of knowing, always knowing, that you were being hunted.

"Well," I said, quietly, my voice just as brittle as hers, "me either." There was a jagged feeling in my chest, an aching, raw pain. Edythe let out a quiet sigh.

"We're quite the pair, aren't we?" she mused.

"Yeah." I said, and tried not to think about the way she'd said that. _Pair_. I liked the sound of that far too much. And then I decided I didn't have to try not to think about how much I liked the way she'd linked us.

There was no point in fighting it– it was like she'd said; if I was going to hell, I may as well enjoy the fall.

Edythe's eyes flicked past my left arm and she smiled slightly. "Your girlfriend thinks I'm being mean to you— she's debating whether or not to come break up our fight." I sighed.

"She's not my girlfriend and you know that, don't be mean." Edythe frowned.

"I don't understand you," she said. "Until you said you were gay you hated the way she was always bothering you. Now you... don't."

"Because now she's just trying to be my friend." I explained.

"Friend." Edythe murmured again. I couldn't tell what the emotion burning in her golden eyes was, but it was so intense I had to look away. I concentrated on unscrewing the lid of my lemonade. I took a swig, staring at the table without seeing it. "Aren't you hungry?" she asked. Her stare was less intense now, I saw with relief, her perfect porcelain face was curious.

"Not really." I admitted. I glanced down at my watch, a new addition now that I couldn't just use a tempus charm. I grimaced and shoved my chair away from the table. "We're going to be late," I told her. She looked surprised for just a moment, and then the now-familiar amusement was back.

"I'm not going to class today."

"Why not?"

She smiled up at me, but her eyes were not entirely disguised. I could still see the stress behind her façade.

"It's healthy to ditch class now and then," she said. I narrowed my eyes at her.

"What do you know that I don't?" I asked, suspiciously. She looked considering for a moment then smiled.

"How about I show you those magazines I promised you?" she suggested and I shrugged, not really seeing a reason not to agree. I'd much prefer staying with her, listening to her voice and watching the expressions flying across her face, so much faster then I could analyse them, then go to Biology.

The first bell rang and Edythe rose gracefully to her feet and turned away from the Biology classroom, towards the car-park instead. I could see McKayla's curious and wary look so I gave her a thumbs up and smiled in what I hoped was a reassuring way before following the vampire out into the rain.


	14. Chapter Thirteen:

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN:**

Edythe led the way to her shiny Volvo and gestured to the passenger side before sliding in behind the wheel. I was more then happy to get out of the wet and cold, though I felt strange sitting on the black leather seat– the inside of the Volvo was just as pristine as the outside. Instead of the smell of gasoline and tobacco, there was just leather and a faint perfume. It was almost familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Whatever it was, it smelled amazing.

Edythe twisted the keys in the ignition, turning on the engine so she could start up the heater and I gave her a grateful smile, knowing she'd done it solely for my benefit. She seemed to be doing a lot of things solely for my benefit lately, and it was doing strange things to my head and stomach.

Edythe leaned over to the backseat and I very carefully did not look at the slip of pale, porcelain skin exposed by her pale blue sweater rising up, concentrating on keeping my heart rate somewhat steady. Edythe, as she pulled back, had an amused expression on her face that told me I hadn't done as good a job as I'd hoped to, though I hastily allowed myself to be distracted by the stack of magazines in her slim arms.

"Wow, you weren't kidding," I said, reaching out almost automatically to start flipping through the titles. There was a huge range, from Cosmopolitan, to Vogue, to Marie Claire, and stacks more titles I didn't recognize at all.

"Archie wants to be a fashion designer." Edythe explained.

"That's pretty cool," I said, honestly. I looked over at the dashboard clock then back to Edythe. "Do you have any plans other then skipping Biology?" I asked and she shook her head.

"I was just going to listen to music in the car."

"Um, do you mind if I sit here and read?" I asked. "The Thing– my truck, I mean, doesn't exactly have the, er, capability to stay in idle."

"Oh I know," Edythe said, amused. I narrowed my eyes.

"Don't pick on my truck– it never did anything to you."

"Oh it has," Edythe said solemnly, "it offends me greatly by existing."

"The Thing saved my life," I grumbled, remembering diving underneath it to escape the van skidding on the ice. Edythe paused for a moment.

"It has its strengths." She conceded delicately. I smiled, feeling a touch triumphant, then got started on my reading materials. Edythe broke the comfortable silence after about forty minutes.

"So," she said, conversationally, and I turned to look at her. Her expression was flawlessly innocent and I immediately felt suspicious.

"So...?"

"I was wondering, a week from Saturday– you know, the day of the spring dance–"

I scowled and interrupted her. "Is this funny to you?" I demanded.

Her amused expression was back, the hint of dimples threatening on her cheeks. "Will you please allow me to finish?" she asked.

"Fine." I said, my scowl not lessening.

"I heard that you were going to Seattle that day, and I wondered if you wanted a ride."

That was not what I was expecting.

"Huh?"

"Do you want a ride to Seattle?"

I wasn't sure where her joke was heading now. "With who?"

"Myself, obviously." She enunciated every syllable, like she thought maybe English wasn't my first language.

"Why?" Where was the punch line?

"Well, I was planning to go to Seattle in the next few weeks, and to be honest, I'm not sure if your truck can make it." I instantly scowled again.

"Make fun of me all you want, but leave my truck out of it."

"Why would you think that I'm making fun of you?" Edythe asked, looking sincerely puzzled. "The invitation is genuine."

"My truck is great, thanks."

"Can your truck make it to Seattle on one tank of gas?"

Before The Thing, I'd never cared one way or another about any car, but I could feel a prejudice against Volvos forming. "I don't see how that's your problem."

"The wasting of finite resources is everyone's problem," she said primly. Well, for a vampire who would be alive for an indefinite amount of time, I supposed that was true. Still didn't change the fact she kept insulting The Thing.

"Well for your information, I'm not actually going to Seattle." I said, snippily. "I have no intention of driving for hours to do whatever people do in Seattle. I'm quite comfortable here." Though I was going to have to figure out how to order books online.

"Oh," Edythe looked surprised. I checked the time on her dashboard and winced.

"I need to go," I told her, "my next class is about to start."

"Alright." She said. "Do you want to take the magazines?"

"Nah," I said. "Nobody's tried beating me up so far, mostly thanks to Archie and your terrifying sister, I'll admit, but I think carrying a stack of women's magazines through the school may be pushing the student body's tolerance."

Edythe conceded with my very valid point– Archie could get away with it, what with his gorgeous, menacing mate and, of course, the fact that a human's lizard brain would start screaming ' _danger!-danger!-danger_!' whenever they got within hitting distance of him. I, on the other hand, did not have that advantage.

The rest of the school day passed quickly. We were still doing basketball in Gym, and I managed to mostly avoid McKayla's questions about where Edythe and I had gone and what we'd been doing. After class I stayed long enough to confirm with McKayla our plans for Friday then drove home.

I didn't see Edythe the following day– it was sunny, which meant she and her family couldn't be seen by muggles, not without outing themselves as more then human.

I did have to sit with McKayla's group at lunch as the determined blonde caught me before I could escape to the library.

Jeremy had a lot of questions about yesterday's lunch, to my utmost irritation.

"So what did you and Edythe Cullen talk about?" he asked.

"That's not really your business." I pointed out. "And I already told you yesterday it was about Biology."

"She looked kind of mad." He said.

I shrugged. "Did she?"

"I've never seen her sit with anyone but her family before. That was weird." I made a non-commital sound and he looked very irritated that I didn't have better answers for him. I couldn't be bothered dealing with his blatant jealousy, though, so I didn't even pretend to make an effort to answer his continued questions and he eventually shut up, thank Rowena.

I caught several unfriendly glances from Logan during lunch, which I didn't really understand, but I got some clarification as we walked out of the room. I guess he didn't realize how close I was behind him– either that, or he just didn't care I could hear him.

"I don't know why Beaufort" – he said my name with a sneer and I wanted to curse his nose off for using my much-loathed full name– "doesn't just sit with the Cullens now," I heard him mutter to McKayla. I was genuinely surprised by the malice in his nasally voice as I really didn't know him well, not well enough for him to dislike me so much– or so I would have thought. I'd say it was the gay thing, except he'd been unfriendly since day one.

"He's my friend; he sits with us," McKayla snapped back, loyally. I paused to let Jeremy and Abel pass. I didn't want to hear any more.

To my dread, the school day passed much too quickly, and before I knew it I was trudging from my house down the driveway to McKayla's car. She played annoying whiny rock songs the whole drive up and chatted endlessly with Erica and Becca.

McKayla drove far too fast for my comfort, and we made it to Port Angeles by four. Port Angeles was a beautiful little tourist trap, much more polished and quaint then Forks. But the others knew it well, so they didn't plan to waste time on the picturesque broad-walk by the bay, McKayla driving straight to the one big department store in town.

The dance was billed as semiformal, and the dress selection wasn't large, so I was hoping it wouldn't take too long. All three gathered a few things to try on, and I sat down on a low chair just outside the dressing room.

Becca didn't ask for my advice, but Erica and McKayla did, making me glad that I'd read those magazines, though I mostly just smiled and nodded and complimented them. It was much more stressful then I thought it would be as girls, it seemed, were very sensitive about the non-existent fat on their bodies that only they seemed to be able to see.

Of course, then after the dresses were finally picked out then they had to buy shoes and accessories.

It seemed to take hours until they'd all finished, and then the plan was to go have dinner at some Italian restaurant Erica was raving about. The three girls were going to take their shopping back to the car and, needing a break, I told them I'd meet them at the restaurant in an hour, that I was looking for a bookstore.

I didn't have much trouble finding one, and was relieved to sink into one of the overstuffed armchairs inside. It was a funny little bookshop, with windows full of crystals and dream-catchers. After a little while browsing, I bought a book about recognizing different herbs that I thought could be useful then decided to go make my way to the Italian restaurant– it was getting dark outside, and I only had the vaguest idea of where the restaurant was.

I meandered through the streets, which were filling up with end-of-the-work-day traffic, and hoped I was headed toward downtown. I wasn't paying as much attention as I should to where I was going.

It took me about ten minutes to start to realize that I was going the wrong direction. The little foot traffic I had seen was going north, and it looked like the buildings here were mostly warehouses. A touch concerned now, I turned and trudged off in what I thought was a northeasterly direction, heading for some glass-fronted buildings that looked promising, but when I got to them, it was just a vacuum repair shop– closed– and a vacant space. I walked around the corner of the repair shop to see if there were any other stores.

It was a wrong turn– just leading around to a side alley where the dumpsters were. But it wasn't empty. Staring at the huddled circle of people, all of whom turned to look at me. There were four men and two women. One of the women and two of the men quickly turned their backs to me, shoving their hands in their pockets, and I had the impression that they were hiding the things they'd been holding. The other woman had dark black hair, and she looked strangely familiar as she glared in my direction. But I didn't stop to figure out how I knew her. When one of the men had spun around, I'd gotten a quick glimpse of what looked a lot like a gun stuffed into the back of his jeans.

I started walking forward, crossing the mouth of the alley and heading on to the next street, like I hadn't noticed them there. Just as I was out of view, I heard a voice whisper behind me.

"It's a cop."

I glanced behind me, actually hoping to see someone in uniform, but there was no one else on the empty street. I was farther off the main road than I'd realized and I started picking up my pace.

I found myself on a sidewalk leading past the backs of several gray warehouses, each with large bay doors for unloading trucks, padlocked for the night. The south side of the street had no sidewalk, only a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire protecting some kind of engine parts storage yard. I'd wandered far past the part of Port Angeles that guests were supposed to see.

It was getting dark now– the clouds were back and piling up on the western horizon, creating an early sunset. I'd left my jacket in McKayla's car, and a sharp wind made me shove my cold hands in my pockets. Realizing they were empty of anything except my wallet, I swore under my breath as I realized that I'd left my wand in my jacket, along with my cellphone.

A single van passed me, and then the road was empty.

"Hey, pig," a woman's voice called from behind me.

I looked back, and it was the woman I'd seen before, the familiar one. Behind her were two of the men from the alley– a tall bald guy and the shorter man who I thought might be the one who'd had the gun.

The woman was looking straight at me and I frowned slightly, slowing down automatically. "I'm sorry, do you mean me?"

"Sorry?" she repeated. They were still walking toward me, and I backed away, toward the south side of the road. "Is that your favorite word or something?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She pursed her lips– they were painted a dark, sticky red– and suddenly I knew where I'd seen her before. She was with the guy I'd knocked with my bag when I first arrived in Port Angeles. I looked at the shorter guy, and sure enough, I could see the tops of the tattoos on either side of his neck.

Shit. This couldn't end well.


	15. Chapter Fourteen:

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN:**

"Aren't you gonna call for backup, Officer?" short-guy-I-once-accidentally-bumped-into asked.

I had to glance behind myself again. It was just me. "I think you've got the wrong guy."

"Sure we do," the woman said. "And you didn't see anything back there, either, did you?"

"I really didn't see anything."

My heel caught on something as I backed away, and I started to wobble. I threw my arms out, trying to balance, and the taller man, the one I'd never seen before, reacted.

He was pointing a handgun at me.

I'd thought it was the shorter guy who'd had the gun. Maybe they all had guns. I couldn't believe I'd managed to leave my wand in the car– although, I thought morbidly, maybe that was for the best. Using magic would mean Snatchers, and I'd rather take on a group of muggles then a group of Snatchers anyway– though I still had hopes of talking my way out of this. It was a mistake, after all; I had no idea why they'd think I was a cop, but surely they'd have to realize I was just a student?

"Hey, hey," I said, holding my hands higher so he could see they were empty. "I'm not a cop. I'm still in high school." I kept edging away until my back ran into the chain-link fence.

"You think I'm stupid?" the woman asked. "You think your plainclothes getup fools me? I saw you with your cop partner, Vice."

"What? No, that was my mom!" I said, and my voice broke.

She laughed. "You're just a baby pig?"

"Sure, okay. So that's cleared up. I'll get out of your way now..." I started sliding along the fence.

"Stop."

It was the bald man, still pointing the gun. I froze.

"What are you doing?" the short guy said to him. His voice was low, but the street was very quiet, and I could hear him easily.

"I don't believe him," the tall one said.

The woman smiled. "How's that pirate song go? Dead men tell no tales."

"What?" I croaked. "No, look, that's– that's not necessary. I'm not telling any tales. There's nothing to tell."

"That's right," she agreed. She looked up at the tall man and nodded.

"My wallet's right here in my pocket," I offered. "There's not much in it, but you're welcome to it..." I started to reach for my pocket, but that was the wrong move. The gun jumped up an inch. I put my hand in the air again.

"We need to keep this quiet," the short one cautioned, and he bent to grab a broken piece of pipe from the gutter. "Put the gun away."

As soon as the gun was down, I was going to bolt, and the bald guy seemed to know that. He hesitated while the tattooed one started toward me.

Zigzag, that was what Harri had told us once, during a DA meeting. It was hard to hit a moving target, especially one that wasn't moving in a straight line– I imagined the principle was similar for guns as it was spells.

How much would a nonfatal bullet wound hurt? More then a dislocated shoulder or almost being cut in half? Would I be able to keep running through the pain? I hoped so.

The man with the pipe was only a few paces away from me now and I tensed, ready to sprint, but a sudden shrill squeal froze him in place. We all stared up as the noise turned piercing.

Headlights flew around the corner and then barreled right at me. The car was just inches from hitting the tattooed guy before he jumped out of the way. The chain-link rattled when he rammed into it. I turned to run, but the car unexpectedly fishtailed around, skidding to a stop with the passenger door flying open just a few feet from me.

"Get in," a familiar furious voice hissed.

I dove into the Volvo's dark interior, not even questioning how she'd come to be here, relief flooding me. I yanked the door shut behind me and ducked my head down– I didn't fancy being shot, just after being rescued.

Except the car wasn't moving. Why wasn't it moving? Why wasn't she driving away?

"Keep your head down," Edythe ordered, and I heard the driver's side door open.

I found myself facing a moral quandry– these muggles had been about to beat me to death with a piece of pipe; leaving them to the mercy of a furious vampire was extremely tempting. Except my mom was a cop, and I knew how disappointed she'd be in me if she ever learned I'd just let people be murdered.

Groaning softly under my breath, I reached out blindly toward the sound of Edythe's voice, and my hand caught her slim, cold arm. She froze when I touched her. There was no give, though my fingers wrapped tight around the leather of her jacket.

"Edythe, just drive, alright?" I coaxed. "Come on, let's go– they're not worth it!" My eyes were adjusting, and I could just make out her eyes in the reflected glow of the headlights. First they looked at my hand gripping her arm, then they narrowed and glared out the windshield toward where the men and the woman must be watching, evaluating.

"Give me just a minute here, Beau." I could tell her teeth were clenched together. I pressed my lips in a thin line. I knew she would have no problem breaking free of my grasp, but she seemed to be waiting for me to let her go. That wasn't going to happen.

"If you go out there, I'm going with you," I said quietly.

Her eyes glared forward for another half-second, and then her door slammed shut and we were reversing at what felt like about sixty. "Fine," she huffed.

The car spun in a tight arc as we raced backward around a corner, and then suddenly we were speeding forward.

"Put on your seat belt," she told me.

I had to drop her arm to obey, but that was probably a good idea anyway. Still... I was sad to let go.

The snap as the belt connected was loud in the darkness.

She took a sharp left, and then blew through several stop signs without a pause.

But despite the insane speed, I felt oddly at ease and totally unconcerned about where we were going. I stared at her face– lit only by the dim dashboard lights– and felt a profound relief that went beyond my lucky escape.

She was here. She was real.

It took me a few minutes of staring at her perfect face to realize more than that. To realize that she looked super, super pissed.

"Are you okay?" I asked, surprised by how hoarse my voice was.

"No," she snapped.

I waited in silence, watching her face while her eyes glared straight ahead.

The car came to a sudden, screeching stop. I glanced around, but it was too dark to see anything besides the vague outline of dark trees crowding the roadside. We weren't in town anymore.

"Are you hurt at all, Beau?" she asked, her voice hard.

"No." My voice was still rough. I tried to clear my throat quietly. "Um, can I ask why you're so mad? Did I do something?"

She exhaled in a sudden gust. "Don't be stupid, Beau."

"Sorry."

She gave me another disbelieving look and then shook her head. "Do you think you would be all right if I left you here in the car for just a few—"

Before she could finish, I reached out to grab her hand where it rested on the gearshift. She reacted by freezing again; she didn't pull her hand away.

It was the first time I'd really touched her bare skin when it wasn't accidental and just for a fraction of a second. Though her hand was as cold as I expected from a vampire, my hand seemed to burn from the contact. Her skin was so smooth.

"You're not going anywhere without me." I warned her.

She glared at me, and like before, it was as if she were waiting for me to let go instead of just yanking free like she could easily have done.

After a moment, she closed her eyes. "Fine," she said again. "Give me a moment."

I was okay with that. I kept my hand lightly on hers, taking advantage of her closed eyes to stare openly. Slowly, the tension in her face started to relax until it was smooth and blank as a statue. A beautiful statue, carved by an artistic genius. Aphrodite, maybe. Was that the one who was supposed to be the goddess of beauty?

Then her eyes opened, and she looked slowly down at my hand.

"Do you... want me to let go?" I asked.

Her voice was careful. "I think that might be for the best."

"You're not going anywhere?" I checked.

"I suppose not, if you're that opposed."

Somewhat unwillingly, I pulled my hand from hers. It felt like I'd been holding a handful of ice cubes. "Better?" I asked.

She took a deep breath. "Not really."

"What is it, Edythe? What's wrong?"

She almost smiled, but there was no humor in her eyes. "This may come as a surprise to you, Beau, but I have a little bit of a temper. Sometimes it's hard for me to forgive easily when someone... offends me. Do you realize that they were serious? That they were actually going to kill you?"

"Yeah, I kinda figured they were going to try."

"It's completely ridiculous!" It seemed like she was working herself up again. "Who gets murdered in Port Angeles? What is it with you, Beau? Why does everything deadly come looking for you?" I actually had to choke back a laugh at that, at the truthfulness of her statement.

She tilted her head to one side and pursed her lips, exhaling through her nose. "I don't understand you." She muttered before sighing. "So I'm not allowed to go teach those thugs a lesson in manners?"

"Um, no. Please?"

She sighed again, a long, slow sigh, and her eyes closed once more. "How disagreeable."

We sat in silence for a moment while I processed what had just happened. I wasn't a stranger to life or death situations, or even situations that held promise of great bodily harm, but tonight... I'd felt naked without my wand– naked and terrified. And conflicted; oh Merlin, I'd felt so, so conflicted. I wanted those disgusting muggles to experience Edythe's sharp, deadly teeth– really, really wanted it– but Charlize...

"Do you have a cell-phone I can borrow?" I asked. Edythe opened her eyes again and turned to me, a light frown on her face.

"Do you not have one?" she asked.

"No," I admitted. "Well, yes– Charlize bought me one when I moved here, but I don't have it on me; I left it in my jacket pocket, and I left my jacket in McKayla's car."

"Why do you need it, anyway?" Edythe pressed.

"Um, to call Charlize?" I said. "You know, my mother who is a cop?" Edythe looked displeased, and it took me a moment to figure out why. "I'm not letting you go hunt them down when I'm not here," I said, sternly. Edythe's whole body went very, very still, and I realized my mistake a second too late.

Well, two mistakes– the first one was my stupid assumption that I'd actually be able to let her do anything. But that wasn't the important one– no, the mistake I'd made, the one that mattered, was that I'd just implied she would go 'hunt them down'. _Hunt_.

Normal teenage girls did not– _could_ not– go hunt down multiple armed gangsters. And normal teenage boys, well, they weren't supposed to imply that they could.

"Um," was all I could say, because honestly my head hurt and my heart was still beating too quickly and my brain was too scrambled to think up some sort of clever excuse for what I'd said.

Basically, I was screwed.

"Um," I repeated. Dark eyes, the black pupils expanded until only the faintest gold outline of the irises were visible, met mine and the suspicion in them made my poor overwrought heart hurt. It wasn't even like there was no good reason for the suspicion– I knew too much, I'd always known too much. Edythe, however, was only just starting to truly realise that.

It was, I realised glumly, damage control time.

" _Hunt_?" The vampire said, in a very dangerous voice. I shunk down in my seat and wished I had Harri's invisibility cloak– Gordy had borrowed it once for us to use and it had been amazing and I really, really, _really_ wanted to escape that accusing look.

I shrank down even further as Edythe leaned forward. "You know," she said, in a soft, dangerous voice, "a normal person would not be asking me not to go after those worthless excuses for human beings, because why on earth would they expect me to? I'm a young woman. Practically a child still. I'm barely five and a half feet tall and have no muscle to speak of.

"And," she continued digging my grave, each word a shovel full of wet earth thrown in my face, "right now, any normal person would be asking how I knew where to find you. How I knew something was wrong in the first place."

I was barely able to keep eye contact with her and my panic had built– significantly. I had no idea what to tell her, no idea at all. And by the look on her face, the look in her dark, burning eyes, she was definitely expecting answers.

"So tell me, Beau," she practically purred, "why are you convinced I'm capable of taking on those maggots? And why aren't you asking those questions? Why aren't you asking how I knew those things?"

"Because why would I ask questions I already know the answer to?" Spilled out of my mouth before I could stop it. Edythe turned to stone before me.

Damn, damn, bloody, bollocksing _damn_.


	16. Chapter Fifteen:

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN:**

I had to fight the urge to inch back from Edythe. Her expression was changing too quickly for me to read and her eyes were almost frighteningly blank. I slumped back against the car seat and absently reflected that this was not how I'd expecting my evening to go _–_ although it was preferable to being beaten to death with a pipe.

"Well?" I asked, after a silence that had stretched on for a disturbingly long time. I fidgeted awkwardly in the seat. "Are you going to say anything?" When she still didn't speak but her pale hand tightened dangerously around the gear shift I cringed slightly. "Edythe, please calm down. I might not like this car, but I'd still prefer you didn't destroy it _–_ I kind of need a lift. Please don't break it." This seemed to break through her shock, but her golden eyes narrowed dangerously as they fixed on mine.

"Please don't break the car? That's all you can say? Nothing about how I'm a _monster_? How I'm not even _human_?" She demanded, her voice a low, furious hiss.

Almost against my better judgement _–_ alright, it was actually _completely_ against my better judgement _–_ I reached out, grabbing onto one of her hands before she could jerk it away. I suspected that the only reason I got close enough to do so was because she was expecting me to push her away, or something.

"Look at me," I ordered, trying to sound more confident then I really was. My voice, fortunately, did not portray the nerves twisting in my stomach.

Edythe listened, did look at me, and her dark eyes were so tortured that I had to suck in a breath. "Jeez, Edythe _–_ I don't care that you're a vampire." She actually flinched when I said the word out loud. I almost did too, but continued on stubbornly. "It doesn't matter to me." I told her, honestly.

"It doesn't _matter_?" Her beautiful face was incredulous and furious, but I stayed resolute.

"No," I told her firmly, "it doesn't matter to me what you are, only who you are. And I know who you are."

Edythe held my gaze for several angry seconds, before sighing.

"You are infuriating," she said, but her voice was resigned now, not furious, and I smiled _–_ a small smile but a smile nonetheless.

"You're certainly not the first one to say that." There was another long moment of silence, and then I realised that I was still holding Edythe's hand. My cheeks heated up slightly and I hastily let go.

It was Edythe who broke the silence in the car. "Don't you have any questions?" She asked.

"Questions?" I echoed.

"Yes, questions," she said, her voice impatient. "Like how I can come out during the day, or why I don't burn in the sun, or if you should start carrying around garlic and stakes."

"Actually, I was wondering what year you were Turned," I said, because I was honestly really curious about that.

"That's your question?" Her voice was incredulous again, and then she just sighed and shook her lovely head. "Oh what am I saying, of course it is. What else should I have expected?" I couldn't help but grin at her.

"That's not an answer, you know."

"I'm seventeen years old." She flashed a pearly white smile at me. I rolled my eyes.

"Still not an answer. Since when have you been seventeen?"

"Since a while ago." She admitted, after a few seconds. I couldn't help but smile slightly.

"A while ago, huh?"

"A long while ago." She agreed, "now it's my turn." Her expression turned very serious. "Beau, how do you know about vampires?" I immediately looked down again, at my lap. My mind raced, trying to come up with an explanation other then _'I'm a wizard and I learned about your species in my Defense Against the Dark Arts class at Hogwarts, the magical school I go to– or I did go to. Right now I can't because the Wizarding World has been taken over by an evil witch who is a mass-murdering psychopath that hates muggleborns– that's witches or wizards like me who don't have parents with magic– and wants to wipe us out, and if she or any of her followers catch me I'll either be killed or locked away in Azkaban, which is arguably even a fate worse then death'_.

"I can't tell you," I said, finally, still not looking up at Edythe, because as desperately as I tried to scramble together a plausible explanation, none were coming to me.

"Beau _–_ " I lifted a hand, making her pause, and looked back up to meet her eyes.

"I respected your family's secret, Edythe. From the first time I laid eyes on you that day in the cafeteria, I knew what you all were, but I never said anything. Not a single word to anybody, even my own mother. Can you please respect my secret?" Edythe looked back at me for a long, long moment, before she sighed and nodded her head slightly.

"Alright, fine. My family and I will respect your secret. _For now_." The last two words were a warning, but a relieved smile still crossed my face.

"Thank you Edythe." I told her. She sighed.

"Royal is going to kill me," she muttered under her breath, so quietly I was fairly certain I wasn't supposed to hear it, before addressing me again. "Your friends are probably worried by now." She said, and I winced as I looked first at the dashboard _–_ it was past six thirty _–_ and then at the dark sky outside.

"McKayla's going to be freaking out." I stated glumly. "But I need to ring Charlize first _–_ God this is going to take a while."

"Don't bother," Edythe said, with a sigh. "I'll take care of them. Non-lethally." I gave her a narrow-eyed look. She smiled innocently. "I'll just seriously maim them a little bit."

"How do you seriously maim someone just a little bit?" I asked, amused and somewhat morbidly curious.

"I'm not sure," Edythe said, her innocent smile turning predatory smile and showing far too many of those sharp, white teeth. "But I certainly intend to find out."

I sighed and slumped back. I should probably fight this harder, demand she let me phone the cops and call this in. But I had just been threatened, held at gun point and almost beaten to death with a pipe. Stopping Edythe from ripping them to pieces was as much mercy as they'd get from me.

"Fine." I said and Edythe didn't have to say anything, her smile just turned very satisfied and without another word, she started the engine and spun the car around. Then we were speeding back toward town. We were under the streetlights in no time at all, still going too fast, weaving easily through the cars slowly cruising the boardwalk. She parallel parked against the curb in a space I would have thought much too small for the Volvo, but she slid in with one try. I looked out the window to see the lights of the restaurant we planned to meet up at, _La Bella Italia_ , and McKayla, Erica and Becca just leaving, pacing anxiously away from us.

I heard the door open and turned to see Edythe getting out. "What are you doing?" I asked her.

"I'm taking you to dinner." She smiled slightly, her very white teeth gleaming in the light, then stepped out of the car, shutting the door with a bump of her hip. I fumbled with my seat belt, and then hurried to get out of the car as well. She was waiting for me on the sidewalk and spoke before I could.

"Go stop them before I have to track them down, too. I won't be able to restrain myself if I run into your other friends again without Christina here to ensure things don't get... excessive." It was startling how her silky voice could sound so... menacing.

"McKayla! Erica!" I shouted hastily.

The girls weren't very far away. They both turned, Becca too, and I waved an arm over my head. They rushed back, the relief on both their faces turning to surprise when they took in the person I was standing next to.

"What happened to you?" McKayla demanded, and I could see the genuine worry on her face.

"I managed to get really lost." I admitted. "And then I ran into Edythe."

"Um, hi... Edythe," Becca said, the only one to greet her as both McKayla and Erica were looking at the vampire very suspiciously.

"Hello girls," Edythe greeted them, her crystal voice sweet and delicate as wind chimes, and Becca swallowed loudly before holding out something in my direction. It was, I realised with a mix of surprise, relief and gratitude, my jacket.

"Thanks," I said gratefully, eagerly pulling it on and reaching into my pocket to wrap my fingers around the comforting shape of the handle of my wand. The comfort of feeling the wood warming beneath my palm as my magic hummed under my skin hit me hard enough I almost stumbled, and I felt something tight in my chest I didn't even realise was there finally loosen.

"You're welcome," Becca smiled kindly at me. "We thought you might need it– it's getting cold."

"Would it be all right if I joined you for dinner?" Edythe spoke up, and I glanced over to see her expression was earnest and irresistible.

"Er... sure," Becca breathed in response.

"Um, actually, Beau, we already ate while we were waiting _–_ sorry," Erica confessed, then she winced as McKayla stood on her foot. "We don't mind waiting, though, of course." She said, hurriedly.

"That's fine _–_ I'm not hungry." I shrugged.

"I think you should eat something." Edythe's voice was sharp, the words quiet enough to be directed only to me. She looked up at McKayla and spoke slightly louder. "Do you mind if I drive Beau home tonight? That way you won't have to wait while he eats."

"Uh..." McKayla bit her lip and glanced over at me, trying to figure out from my expression whether that was what I wanted. Whatever she saw on my face must have reassured her because she sighed. "That's fine, I guess. See you Monday, Beau... Edythe."

Erica and Becca also said their goodbyes and I waved to the three of them as they got into McKayla's car, which was parked a little ways away, across First Street. Once they were gone I turned back to face Edythe.

"Honestly, I'm really not hungry," I told her. She gained a familiar, stubborn look in her golden eyes.

"Humour me," she said, firmly, and walked to the door of the restaurant, holding it open with an obstinate expression. Obviously, there would be no further discussion. I trudged past her into the restaurant with a resigned sigh.

The place wasn't crowded— this was the off-season in Port Angeles. The host was a meticulously groomed guy a few years older than me, about my height but thicker through the shoulders. His eyes bugged out for a second when he first saw Edythe before he got control of his expression and then it was his smarmiest smile and a goofy deep bow, all for her. I was pretty sure he didn't even know I was standing there next to her.

"What can I do for you?" he asked as he straightened up, still looking only at her.

"A table for two, please."

For the first time, he seemed to realize I was there. The look he gave me was quick and dismissive. His eyes shifted back to her immediately, not that I could blame him for that.

"Of course, er, mademoiselle." He grabbed two leather folders and gestured for Edythe to follow. I rolled my eyes.

 _"Signorina"_ was probably what he'd been looking for.

He led us to a four-top in the middle of the most crowded part of the dining room. I reached for a chair, but Edythe shook her head at me.

"Perhaps something more private?" she said quietly to the host. It looked like she brushed the top of his hand with her fingers, which I already knew was unlike her— she didn't touch people if she could help it— but then I saw him slide that hand to a pocket inside his suit coat, and I realized that she must have given him a tip.

"Of course," the host said, though he sounded surprised. He led us around a partition to a small ring of booths, all of them empty. "How is this?"

"Perfect," she said, and unleashed her smile on him.

Like a deer in headlights, the host froze for a long second, and then he slowly turned and staggered back toward the main floor, our menus still in the crook of his arm.

"You are so bad," I told her and she laughed, the sound like music, sliding into one side of the closest booths, sitting close to the edge so that my only option was to sit facing her with the length of the table between us. After a second of hesitation, I sat, too.

Our server arrived then, with an expectant expression which quickly shifted to awe. Whatever the host had told him, it had been an understatement.

"Hello," he said, surprise making his voice monotone as he mechanically recited his lines. "My name is Sal, and I'll be taking care of you tonight. What can I get you to drink?"

Like the host's, his eyes never strayed from Edythe's face.

"Beau?" she prompted.

"Um, a Coke?"

I might as well not have spoken at all. The waiter just kept staring at Edythe. She flashed a grin at me before turning to him. "Two Cokes," she told him, and then she smiled a wide, dimpled smile right into his face.

He actually wobbled, like he was going to keel over. A vampire's charm at work- it could be utterly lethal. The waiter shook his head and blinked, trying to reorient, and I watched sympathetically.

"And a menu?" Edythe added when he didn't move.

"Yes, of course, I'll be right back with that." He was still shaking his head as he walked out of sight.

"That was mean," I said, more amused then anything. "That poor guy could hurt himself trying to get back to the door."

"I forgot what it's like," Edythe admitted, sounding a touch sheepish.

"You forgot?" I repeated, somewhat incredulous.

"I don't usually smile so much," she said simply.

"Probably safer that way _–_ for everyone." I said. But it was very sad, and it really did make me wonder about the life she had led.


	17. Chapter Sixteen:

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN:**

"Shall we talk about what happened tonight?" Edythe asked.

"Huh?"

"Your near-death experience? Or did you already forget?"

"Oh." Actually, I had.

She frowned. "How do you feel?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Are you cold, dizzy, nauseas...?" The way she listed the words reminded me of a doctor's exam. And I didn't feel cold or sick _–_ or dizzy in a medical way.

"Should I?"

She laughed. "I'm wondering if you're going to go into shock," she admitted. "I've seen it happen with less provocation."

"Oh. No, I'm pretty sure I'll be fine, thanks." Honestly, almost being murdered by a couple of muggles, while very disturbing, wasn't exactly terrifying. And having my wand in my pocket again, a familiar and comforting weight at my side, had been enough to chase off any lingering shakiness. So had, if I was being honest, Edythe herself.

"Just the same, I'll feel better when you have some food in you." The vampire before me decided.

Practically on cue, the waiter appeared with our drinks and a basket of breadsticks. He stood with his back to me while he placed them on the table, then handed Edythe a menu. She didn't so much as look at him this time, just pushed the menu across the table to me.

He cleared his throat nervously. "There are a few specials. Um, we have a mushroom ravioli and—"

"Sounds great," I interrupted; I didn't care what I got. "I'll have that." I spoke a little louder than necessary, but I wasn't sure he really knew I was sitting here. He finally threw a surprised glance my way, and then his attention was back to her.

"And for you...?"

"That's all we need. Thank you."

He waited for a second, hoping for another smile, I thought. A glutton for punishment. When Edythe kept her eyes on me, he gave up and walked away.

"Drink," Edythe said. It sounded like an order and I took a sip obediently, then another bigger gulp, surprised to find that I was actually pretty thirsty. I'd sucked down the entire glass before I knew it, and she slid her glass toward me.

"No, I'm fine," I told her.

"I'm not going to drink it," she said, and her tone added the _duh_.

"Right," I said, a bit embarrassed because that was actually pretty obvious, and I was thirsty enough that I downed hers, too.

"Thanks," I said and she smiled again.

"Anything for my _friend_ ," she said, and the way she seemed to emphasise the last word confused me slightly, and when I didn't say anything she looked like she was going to roll her eyes. "You know, despite being friends, I don't know an awful lot about you," she said. "Tell me about yourself, Beau."

I raised an eyebrow. "You realise that that goes both ways in a friendship, right?" I asked. "Equal exchanges of information and all that."

Edythe looked... actually quite enthralled by the idea. It hit me then that she'd probably never had a friend before, at least not since she'd been Turned. Coven mates, sure; brothers and sisters and parental figures, but not a friend the way I had friends. In a way, being a vampire must be very isolating.

"I can't promise to answer all your questions," she warned.

"Me either. But there's no need to worry about the heavy stuff. Just... tell me about something that makes you happy." I suggested. Her golden eyes were curious but they also contained some other emotion I couldn't name.

"The piano," she said, finally. "When I was young _–_ and still human _–_ Edna, my birth mother, used to force me to do piano lessons. I hated the strict Parisian governess she saddled me with. The woman also taught me French, etiquette and the violin, and started me on dance lessons _–_ mother was so insistent on all of them _–_ but piano was the only one I really enjoyed."

She smiled then, presumably at my wide-eyed expression. I hadn't been expecting her to be so honest, and I could just picture a young Edythe in a dress trimmed with embroidery and lace, styled with a fitted bodice and long full skirt, with her tousled, curly hair bound by ribbons, or possibly even a bonnet, depending on just how long ago she'd been Turned, sitting on a piano stool, trying to reach all the keys with her tiny fingers.

"Your turn, Beau," Edythe prompted, full pink lips curling into a playful smile. "Tell me what makes you happy."

My breath hitched slightly, catching in my throat as my heart clenched painfully, because the thing in my life that made me happiest was my magic. It was because of my magic that I had my friends, my family and my home _–_ and Hogwarts would _always_ be my home, no matter what they did, the Death Eaters and the Dark Lady couldn't take that from me. It was the place I'd always remember being happiest.

And that's what I tell Edythe. "Home," I said, in a voice that I wasn't ashamed cracked.

"And where is home?" She asked gently. I closed my eyes and thought about thousands of floating candles and grand feasts, of a tower full of books, a library larger then Charlize's entire house, professors wearing long robes and cloaks that swished and billowed as they moved around, and classrooms full of students wearing ties and scarves coloured blue and bronze, black and yellow, red and gold, even green and silver. I thought of the gently swaying Whomping Willow beside the still, dark waters of the Black Lake that seemed to turn to crystal during the heat of the summer, and the wildness of the Forbidden Forest, dappled in shades of green and brown where spiders bigger then cars spun their webs, unicorns danced between the ancient trees and somewhere a colony of centaurs had made their home.

"Britain." I whispered aloud, still not opening my eyes. "A castle by a lake and a forest, near the mountains. No houses for as far as the eye can see. Extraordinary wildlife. Even more extraordinary people."

"That sounds... it sounds truly magical." Edythe murmured.

A wet laugh escaped me. "Oh you have no idea. It's the most magical place in Europe." I opened my eyes to look at her. Edythe was leaning forwards, her face soft and open. She looked honestly enthralled by my weak description of Hogwarts and I smiled sadly, resting my hands on the table and looking down at them.

"I'm not doing it justice," I said, quietly, as I thought of towers and turrets, of a wild, dark forest and a deep lake, of countless suits of armour and ancient paintings on stone walls, of rolling green grass and snow as deep as my waist. "I'm not doing it justice, even by a long shot."

A small, slim hand reached out to mine and icy fingers intertwined with my own, squeezing gently. My heart almost tripled in speed in my chest, but Edythe didn't comment on that. Instead when I looked up at her in shock, she was smiling at me, some unexplainable emotion burning in her dark gold eyes and, after a moment, I smiled back hesitantly.

Of course that's when the waiter arrived with my pasta and Edythe had to let go of my hand so he could place it in front of me.

I'm sure it was delicious, but I barely tasted the food _–_ my attention was too hopelessly preoccupied on one of the most amazing people I'd ever met. There was just something... breathtaking about Edythe, and I wasn't even referring to her beauty, though that was breathtaking too _–_ she was so unlike anyone I'd ever met before, and she was amazing.

She had questions, too _–_ lots of them. I answered the best I could, though some I just couldn't, like when she asked about my friends. I wanted to tell her all about Lyric, my best friend in the entire universe, as well as Gordy and Neve and Harri, Ronda and Hermes, but my throat got too choked– I barely even managed to say their names out loud. It was easier to talk about Charlize, and a bit about all the moving around I'd done when I was younger, before Reese had settled in Phoenix. I even told her about my first kiss when she asked, which had been with Neve, just before the battle at the Department of Mysteries.

Of course, I asked her questions too. She was hesitant to discuss her coven with me, but seemed more then happy to tell me about her human family. She'd also finally confirmed when it was she'd been born _–_ 1901\. It actually shocked me a little, but mostly because I was surprised by just how accurate my guess had been, not because she was over a century old.

At some point, I wasn't sure when, one of her hands had moved to cover one of mine again. It made me very glad that I'd chosen the ravioli _–_ it meant I only needed one hand to hold a fork to spear the pasta squares and lift them to my mouth. My fingers were starting to feel numb, but I didn't care. If she didn't object, I'd never move again.

Still, I hadn't been lying when I said I wasn't hungry, and it didn't take long for me to stop eating, focusing my attention on the vampire across from me instead.

The waiter showed up after I hadn't touched my plate for nearly ten minutes.

"How are you do—" he started to ask. Edythe cut him off.

"Are you going to eat anything else, Beau?" she asked me. I blinked at my food.

"No, I'm good."

Edythe's attention switched back to the waiter in a flash. "We're finished, thank you very much, that ought to cover it, no change, thanks."

She was already out of her seat.

I fumbled for my wallet. "Um, let me— you didn't even get anything—"

"My treat, Beau."

"But—"

"Try not to get caught up in antiquated gender roles."

She walked away, and I rushed to follow, leaving the stunned waiter behind me with what looked like a hundred-dollar bill on the table in front of him.

I passed her, hurrying again to get the door, ignoring what she'd said about antiquated roles. I knew she was faster than I could probably imagine, but the half-filled room of watching people forced her to act like she was one of them. She gave me a strange look when I held the door open— like she was kind of touched by the gesture, but also annoyed by it at the same time. I decided to overlook the annoyed part, and I stubbornly marched past her to hold the car door, too. It opened easily— she'd never locked it. Her expression was more amused than anything at this point, so I took that as a good sign.

"You are so strange," she said, once we were both buckled in _–_ I'd given her a pointed look until she'd put on her seatbelt; it was a cop's kid thing. "And I get the feeling I still don't know the half of it," she added, with a slight sigh.

"I don't really get called strange anymore," I said, the realisation surprising me. "Not since I became joined at the hip with Lyric _–_ next to him I seem normal."

"Am I offending you?" Edythe asked. She looked more curious then worried.

"No. It's actually sort of refreshing." I admitted. "And it reminds me of Lyric."

"You must really love him," Edythe said, softly, her golden eyes both understanding and sad. I had to look away from her face, trying to gather my thoughts into words, and my eyes wandered across the dashboard... stopping at the speedometer.

"Merlin's balls!" I shouted.

"What's wrong?" Edythe asked, looking right and left, rather than straight ahead where she should be looking. The car didn't decelerate.

"You're doing one-ten!" I was still shouting.

I shot a panicked glance out the window, but it was too dark for my human eyes to see much. The road was only visible in the long patch of bluish brightness from the headlights. The forest along both sides of the road was like a black wall— as hard as a wall of steel if we veered off the road at this speed.

"Relax, Beau." Edythe rolled her eyes, still not slowing.

"Are you trying to kill us?" I demanded. "By which I mean 'kill me' because we both know who's going to get up and walk away if this car crashes!"

"We're not going to crash."

I carefully modulated my voice. "Why are we in such a hurry, Edythe?"

"I always drive like this." She turned to flash a smile at me.

"Keep your eyes on the road!"

"I've never been in an accident, Beau— I've never even gotten a ticket." She grinned and tapped her forehead. "Built-in radar detector."

"Hands on the wheel, Edythe!" I said, too panicked to give any thought to what she meant by that. She sighed, and I watched with relief as the needle gradually drifted toward eighty.

"Happy?"

"Almost."

"I hate driving slow," she muttered.

"This is slow?" I asked, incredulously.

"Enough commentary on my driving," she snapped.

I very carefully held back the comments I wanted to make in response to that.

If I thought McKayla driving up to Port Olympia had been fast, that was nothing on Edythe. It felt like barely fifteen minutes had passed before she was turning into my driveway _–_ Charlize's cruiser wasn't even back yet.

"Thank you for the lift," I told Edythe as the Volvo idled in the driveway. "And for, you know, probably saving my life tonight." Edythe didn't say anything, just looked back at me, her eyes seeming focused somewhat unnervingly on my mouth, and I paused, lifting a hand to brush against my lips. "Do I have something in my teeth?" I asked nervously, cringing at the thought.

"I thought I told you not to be stupid," Edythe sighed, looking somewhat frustrated.

"Um," I said, confused, and Edythe rolled her eyes.

"For god's sake, Beau," she muttered, before leaning forwards swiftly, closing the distance between us until our faces were only inches apart. For a heart-stopping second I could see the agony of indecision in her honey-coloured eyes and then it was gone and she was pressing her lips to mine.

Edythe's lips were firm and icy-cold rather than soft like Hermes' had been after the Slug Club Christmas Party, or chapped like Neve's had been in those frantic, hurried minutes we shared before the Department of Mysteries. And neither of those kisses had made me feel even a fraction as much as this one did. Neither of them had held even a glimmer of the passion that had me pressing into Edythe.

She tasted sharp and sweet all at once, and she was numbingly cold to touch but my blood was boiling under my skin, burning my lips, and it was perfect. As Edythe pulled back slowly, parting with a last, soft, chaste press of lips, I saw her eyes had gone from honey to amber.

"Well," I said, and it came out huskier than I'd intended.

"Well," she agreed, and there was a degree of throatiness present in her voice too, as well as faint wonder. I couldn't turn away from her, from her perfect, burning eyes, until the sudden light of headlights turning onto the street had me blinking, breaking the spell.

"I have to go," Edythe said, moving back to her seat in a swift, graceful movement.

"Huh?"

"That's Charlize," she said, full pink lips curving up slightly. "I'm in her way."

"Oh," I realised, cheeks heating up slightly. "Um, well, I'll see you on Monday?"

As soon as I said that I wished I'd asked to see her earlier, over the weekend, but she was already starting the engine, absently tugging her seatbelt on.

"I'll see you on Monday," she agreed and I swallowed, opening the car door and sliding out, not brave enough to lean forward and kiss her goodbye.

The Volvo was reversing out of the driveway practically the second I closed the door, but it had barely zipped up the street before I felt my cellphone buzz in my pocket. Fumbling slightly, I pulled it out to see a new message on the screen, from a new number.

_Goodnight Beau xx_

I felt my cheeks heat up again and barely registered Charlize stepping out of the cruiser, now parked in the driveway. My mother cleared her throat and I jumped, my cheeks heating further at the look on her face. She was smiling, obviously very amused.

"'It's not like that', right?" She said and I groaned, cringing. Charlize laughed as she passed, patting my shoulder as she went. "Just tell me if I need to add condoms to the shopping list," she called over her shoulder and I almost died right then and there.


	18. Chapter Seventeen:

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:**

Monday morning I was awake before dawn and utterly exhausted, with bags under my eyes that rivaled a vampire's. Two of my housemates had been confirmed dead on Potterwatch over the weekend, and I felt like a wreck. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat _–_ it was like there was this vice in my chest that was getting tighter and tighter, making it harder and harder to breathe.

Charlize asked me at breakfast how I was, concern painted clearly on her face. I shrugged and answered her honestly. "I can't eat and I can't sleep, mom. I'm not doing well in terms of being a functional human, you know."

This, of course, didn't help matters at all, and I was barely able to convince her to let me go to school. I wouldn't have even fought it so hard if I didn't want to see Edythe so desperately. 

I ended up as one of the last people to arrive, just in time for class. Waste of time that turned out to be, though, as I couldn't concentrate on my teachers at all, all I could do was fight off the alternating bouts of drowsiness and anxiety.

Lunchtime couldn't have come quick enough, and I escaped to the library, curling up amongst the book stacks. It was there Edythe found me, like I knew she would.

As she walked around the corner my whole body jolted slightly, and I felt my cheeks warm in response to her presence. She looked beautiful, her hair coiled up in a messy twist with a few strands loose around her face. "Hello Beau," she greeted me, gracefully sliding down so she was sitting cross-legged beside me.

"Hey Edythe." I greeted her back. She hesitated for a few seconds, before speaking.

"I'm sorry I left so abruptly on Friday night after kissing you." She said, apologetically. "I needed to go..." her lovely pink mouth pursed slightly as she tried to figure out wording that wouldn't send me running and screaming in terror.

"Hunt." I supplied for her, with a small but real smile. My first real smile since Friday night. Edythe smiled ruefully.

"Yes, I didn't want to..." she hesitated again and I couldn't help myself.

"Play with fire."

Edythe rolled her eyes. "I didn't want to hurt you, Beau." She said, reaching out to trail her fingertips along the line of my jaw and I felt my cheeks heat up.

It was she who initiated the kiss again, leaning forwards slowly and pressing her lips to mine. "Edythe," I breathed, my mouth moving against hers.

" _Beau_ ," she mumbled back, " _Beau_..." the way she said my name, the reverence she said it with, the tone of wonder, did funny things to my chest and Beau Jr was starting to take interest in what was going on. Eventually, oxygen became an issue and I had to pull back, taking big, deep breaths.

"So... I guess that means Friday wasn't a one off thing." I said. I meant it as a joke but Edythe's mouth immediately turned down unhappily.

"And that's the problem, is it not?" She said, quietly.

"Only if you let it be a problem."

"I'm not human, Beau. I'm not good for you." She said, and her voice was agonized again.

"That makes two of us." I replied, reaching out to hold her hand in my own. "I'm not good for you either, Edythe. But life is precious. I," I paused and swallowed, "I learned this weekend that some old classmates of mine passed away." I said, grief twisting my voice as I admitted it out loud. "And it hurts, god it hurts, but it really made me realise that I have a choice here _–_ I can accept that a relationship between us is dangerous and that the safest thing for us both is to just forget we ever kissed. Or I can choose to be happy, and you make me happy, Edythe. You make me feel alive. And I'm going to fight for that. I'm going to fight for you. I don't care that it's a risk, a dangerous one. I just care about you."

Edythe was staring at me as I finished my speech. It hadn't been something I'd prepared, just something that had come tumbling out when I realised she was withdrawing from me, ready to run from our burgeoning relationship like we both should be. But I didn't want to run anymore.

Life was fragile and it was precious. I knew seeing Edythe, having a relationship with her, would be dangerous for both of us. But I was pretty sure I loved her, and I was starting to realise that whatever the cost of this relationship might be, it would be worth it. She was worth it.

"Alright," Edythe said, soft and sudden. Her eyes met mine and I could see acceptance in them, as well as something else, something warm. "Alright." She repeated. "Let's try this."

And then she leaned forwards and kissed me. This kiss was much gentler then before, softer, but the fire it lit in me was just as fiercely burning. When we pulled apart her eyes were very soft, though she gave me a considering look.

"Why aren't you at the cafeteria?"

I blinked. "Um, what?"

"The cafeteria. I tried finding you there but you never showed up. Why?" Edythe asked.

"Really?" I asked, with a slight wince, "we just kissed and _that's_ the first thing you say?" Edythe's expression turned apologetic. I forgave her instantly.

"I'm sorry, Beau," she said, ever so earnestly. "It's just... I have so many questions and I'm so used to being able to just hear the answers." I frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Well... you see... I can hear people's thoughts." She admitted, slightly sheepish.

"What?" I gasped, my eyes widening, panic racing through me. Merlin's hairy arse! What had she been hearing in my mind? I wondered, frantically.

"Relax, Beau!" Edythe quickly intervened in my panic, lifting up both her hands in an 'I surrender' position, like she couldn't just lean forwards and break my neck with them in the space of a heartbeat, before I even realised she was moving. "I can read people's thoughts, all people's," Edythe said, "except for yours."

"Oh thank Morgana," I said, relief flooding me as I relaxed by slumping back slightly. Edythe's mouth twisted into a wry smile.

"It's infuriating. I've run across people with foggy minds before _–_ your mother is one of them _–_ but never a mind that is completely blank, not even just flashes. It's unbelievably frustrating."

That made me pause and wonder. Was it a natural defense Wizarding kind have against vampires? I'd never read anything about it, though I had read about how when a vampire was Turned, some of them gained certain special abilities, or 'Gifts'. Or super powers, I supposed you could call them.

Actually, it was interesting to hear that Charlize was the same _–_ or at least similar _–_ to me. It made me think that I'd found out which parent my magic came from (though I really shouldn't be surprised it wasn't Reese) _–_ one of Charlize's ancestors must have been a witch or wizard, or a squib maybe, if she possessed enough latent magic for her to protect her mind.

"So am I going to get my answer?" Edythe's amused voice broke me from my thoughts and I jolted slightly.

"Sorry, what?"

"Why aren't you eating in the cafeteria?"

"Oh. Well I'm hiding from McKayla and Erica." I admitted. Edythe immediately laughed.

"They are very _–_ " she paused, searching for a word, " _keen_ to learn all about Friday night."

"Apparently my gayness is irrelevant if you are the female in question I'm spending time with." I agreed, with an irritated sigh. "They're both convinced we're dating."

"Are we?" Edythe asked, something unfathomable in her eyes.

"Oh." I said, in a somewhat stunned realisation. It felt like it had really only just hit me. "They're right, aren't they? We are dating. Blessed Rowena, I'm dating a vampire." Oh bugger, Gordy was going to kill me.

"You're going to have to face McKayla in Biology," Edythe pointed out. "You may as well go eat. You don't eat enough anyway." I fought the urge to fidget. So Edythe had noticed my less then stellar health, and rather lacking appetite. I wasn't exactly surprised.

"Fattening me up?" I tried to deflect. "I think you need to revisit Vampire 101 about just what part you're supposed to eat." Edythe gave me a particularly unimpressed look.

"More jokes?" She said, archly. I just shrugged because I honestly couldn't tackle food right now and she sighed. "Fine. It's a good thing I don't actually need to eat. Now only one of us has to starve." She said, darkly. I rolled my eyes at her and turned my attention back to what I'd been doing before she'd found me. She looked curiously over at what I was reading. "Studying for Biology?" She asked.

"I have to study ahead for, like, two hours before every lesson if I want to understand what the professor is talking about." I admitted.

"'Professor'?" Edythe asked, amused. I winced slightly at the slip of the tongue, but she didn't seem to be pay any attention to it outside of the light mocking. Instead she was looking over my Biology work, a considering look on her face. "You know, I must have done this Biology course at least a dozen times now," she mused. "I could teach it if I really wanted. And my students would do fantastically."

"Are you offering to tutor me?" I asked, surprised. She flashed me a smile.

"Depends. Prepared to learn from a girl?"

"Don't get caught up in antiquated gender roles, Edythe," I said, mock-sternly, remembering her words from the night before. She laughed, visibly delighted.

"Very well." She said, before grinning. "Feel free to call me Professor."

Professor Cullen... now that _– that_ brought a lot of images to mind that made me very glad she couldn't read my mind. Of course, by the glint in her gold eyes I had the feeling she knew very well what I was thinking anyway.

"McKayla plans on asking you if I've asked you to the dance," Edythe commented, a few minutes before the bell that signalled the end of lunch was due to ring. "I thought I'd give you some advanced warning." She added, smiling at me like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth and she wasn't unfairly amused by all this.

"But why?" I asked, surprised and frustrated. "I've already told her that it doesn't matter who asks or if I have a partner or not; dances are not my thing and I'm not going."

Edythe's face stayed amused for a few moments, before turning a mixture of serious and curious. "If I'd asked you, would you have turned me down?" She asked, curiously.

I thought about it for a few seconds, before answering honestly. "Yes, probably. Sorry."

"Don't apologise," she said, amused. "You really don't like dances, do you?" I pulled a face.

"I used to be the world's biggest klutz when I was younger," I told her. "I couldn't walk across a flat surface without finding something to trip over." I half smiled, half grimaced at the memories, "I grew out of it, to an extent, but when it comes to dancing I've got two left feet." The Slug Club could attest to this. As could Harri, the one who'd taught me duelling basics in the DA, the movements of which could be painfully similar to dance steps _–_ and yes, I meant _painfully_.

"Hence telling the student body you're gay." Edythe said. "And when that didn't work, the whole going to Seattle story."

"Exactly." I nodded.

"What about we actually do it?" Edythe suggested. "Not the dance," she quickly clarified, likely due to the expression on my face, "Seattle. Why don't we actually drive in?"

"Huh," I said, surprised by her suggestion. "Um... I suppose that could be fun?" Edythe looked amused.

"I feel like I should be insulted by how insincere you sound." My cheeks went splotchy as I flushed in embarrassment.

"It's not the spending time with you part that I'm... less then enthusiastic about," I told her, "it's the actual driving up to Seattle part. I'm really not a fan of long drives." I was far too used to the instantaneous transportation the Wizarding world favoured. Edythe gave me a considering look.

"How about we do something different then?" She asked.

"Are you... are you asking me out, Edythe?" I asked, once my brain started working again. "Like, on a date?"

"Yes." She said breezily, not having any trouble admitting it. "Will you?"

I took less then a second to think it over _–_ obviously my answer was yes _–_ then narrowed my eyes at her.

"I have one condition." She obligingly arranged her face in a pretend-serious expression.

"Name your terms."

"I drive." Her perfect eyebrows drew together in confusion.

"Why?" She asked, sounding genuinely surprised by my demand.

"Your driving frightens me." I admitted, and she sighed loudly.

"Of all the things about me that could frighten you, you worry about my driving." She shook her head in disbelief.

"What? You don't just break the speed limits, you obliterate them! I don't care how good your reflexes are _–_ if your stupid shiny car wraps itself around a tree, you'll just walk away. Me on the other hand _–_ well, that's not exactly how I plan to die."

Edythe groaned. "Fine. You can drive, but I refuse to go in your truck so I hope you can drive a Volvo."

"I can." I said, hoping that was true. "Where do you want to go then?"

"Well, the weather will be nice, so I'll be staying out of the public eye... and you can stay with me, if you'd like to."

"I think I can manage to force myself to suffer through the horror of your presence." I told her, keeping my face as straight as possible. She laughed, golden eyes light and dancing with mirth.

"I'm glad."

The bell went off then and I stood quickly, gathering up my textbooks.

"Let's go test the success of my tutoring." Edythe said.

"Uh, in a moment," I said, checking my watch. "I don't want to be early." Edythe arched a questioning eyebrow and I smiled sheepishly. "I'm still avoiding McKayla." I admitted.

She just laughed.


	19. Chapter Eighteen:

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:**

All the studying in the library turned out to be for nothing when Mrs. Banner pulled out an ancient VCR instead. Still, I struggled to follow the information and my expression must have told Edythe as much because she informed me pretty much as soon as the class ended that her tutoring would begin immediately.

"You want to start this afternoon?" I asked, surprised. Edythe arched a dark-bronze eyebrow.

"Are you going to put up a fuss?" she asked.

"Is there any point in resisting?" I retorted and her dark pink lips curved up. I tried to decipher all the layers to her smile, but I didn't get very far.

"It warms my cold heart to see you learning so quickly." She said, sounding oh-so very smug. "I'll meet you next to that _thing_ you call a car after your last class."

She didn't wait for me to say anything, just turned and left. I tried not to stare at her arse as she left but the smooth roll of her hips was just as hypnotic as her eyes and I cursed the hormones responsible for the subtle tightening in my briefs. Still, despite the forceful way she'd announced it, there wasn't actually a downside to getting to spend more time with Edythe– I just hoped that she'd leave before Charlize got home so I could avoid any further teasing from my mother.

Gym passed quickly, despite McKayla practically pouncing on me the moment I left the boy's locker room after getting changed.

"What's with you and Edythe?" she practically demanded, before adding, "I don't like it– she looks at you like you're something to eat!" Despite the righteous indignation on McKayla's face, I couldn't help snorting slightly at the accuracy in that particular observation. McKayla's face tightened. "Do you _like_ her, Beau?" she asked, putting enough emphasis on the word 'like' for there to be no mistaking what she meant by it. I purposefully misunderstood it anyway.

"Sure I do," I said, keeping my face and voice both light and unaffected, "Edythe's nice. She's got a surprisingly wicked sense of humor, too."

"I meant do you _like_ like her," McKayla said, poorly concealed frustration burning in her tone, with a touch of envy. I furrowed my brow, adopting a look of perfect confusion.

"McKayla, I'm gay," I told her, speaking slowly, but not enough so as to offend her, "I don't like girls that way."

McKayla didn't seem fully convinced by my act, but her expression settled somewhat, stopped looking quite so accusing, though the doubt was still there. "Well she _likes_ you." She muttered, but she said it quietly enough I could pretend I didn't hear as Coach Clapp cheerfully shoved a racquet in my hand and announced we were playing tennis. "You might want to refresh Taylor on the whole gay thing," McKayla added, suddenly, as we partnered up on the court. I looked at her confused.

"What?" I asked. McKayla's answering grin was just a few shades off evil.

"She says you're taking her to Prom."

I felt my jaw fall open. McKayla cracked up.

"That was my reaction too," she said, frustration and doubt gone for now, replaced instead by her amusement.

"Are you serious?" I demanded when I had control of my face again. "I mean, she was probably joking... right? Right?"

"Logan and Jeremy were talking about getting started early and putting together a big thing for prom, and then Taylor said she was out because she already had plans– with you. That's why Logan's being so... you know... about you. He has a thing for Taylor. I figure you deserved a heads-up." McKayla explained, looking blatantly and unfairly entertained as she did so.

"What am I supposed to do?" I asked frantically.

"Tell her you're not taking her." McKayla said, like it was that simple.

"How do I even say that!?" My voice cracked slightly as I managed to hit a much higher note then I intended. McKayla started laughing again.

"Man up, Beau. Or rent a tux. Your choice."

"Oh no," I moaned, and thankfully the lesson started before McKayla could give me any more truly terrible news.

Tennis wasn't awful. I wasn't great at it, but I was quick on my feet and good at tracking the fast moving ball. Hitting the ball so it went over the net took a bit of practice, but I was pretty happy with myself by the time class ended.

I took the time to shower and change out of my gym clothes, seeing as I was going to be in close-ish contact with Edythe I thought I'd spare her sensitive nose, before heading back out to my truck. By now the car park was mostly empty, the absence of the silver Volvo included, but Edythe was leaning casually against the passenger side of The Thing.

I couldn't help the smile I hastily shoved away and hoped nobody had seen the goofy, love-struck expression that had momentarily crossed my face.

"Have fun in Gym?" Edythe asked, as soon as I got within human hearing range.

"A bit. Tennis is better then I thought it would be." I admitted.

I unlocked my truck and we both slid into our seats. As I started up the engine Edythe spoke first. "I've had a thought." I assumed a concerned expression.

"Oh dear– are you okay?" She rolled her eyes.

"Very funny Beau."

"Thanks. I thought so too."

Edythe rolled her eyes again but her lips were twitching up 

"It's about this Saturday." She said. "I was wondering whether you were intending to tell your mother where you're going– or rather, who you're going with."

"With Charlize less is usually more." I told her. "Especially if I want to avoid the now inevitable mocking for as long as is possible. I really don't fancy having that conversation with her yet." I could already predict the shades of red my face was going to burn.

Edythe's eyes narrowed infinitesimally, her expression growing guarded. "Does Charlize know what I am?" She asked, jaw tightening.

I shuddered at the thought. "Christ, no! You saw her after the parking lot accident– she probably wouldn't even let me step foot outside the house if she knew your kind existed!"

Edythe's mouth quirked back into a smile as her expression relaxed somewhat. "You should tell Charlize, though. About where you'll be."

I immediately shook my head. "Why would I do that?"

Her golden eyes were suddenly fierce. "To give me some small incentive to bring you back." She said darkly.

"I... I was about to say homicidal isn't a good look on anyone, but you actually manage to pull it off pretty well." I admitted after staring for a moment. With her stiff jaw and narrow, glowering eyes, Edythe was beautiful and more then just slightly terrifying. "And I think I'll take my chances, thanks." I added. "I'm pretty happy with them."

Edythe made a half-frustrated, half-resigned sound.

"You're more stubborn then a mule." She muttered, and I couldn't help but smile at that.

"Charlize used to say I got it from my father." I said, and Edythe tilted her head slightly, her lovely expression turning curious.

"What is your father like?" she asked. "You've talked about Charlize quite a bit, but not him."

I swallowed and saw in the rear-view mirror her butterscotch eyes studying me curiously while I thought of an answer. I picked my words carefully, not for once because I was hiding the whole 'I'm a wizard, surprise!' thing, but because Reese was a painful subject to talk about. His rejection was something I didn't think I'd ever really get over.

"He kind of looks like me," I told her, finally. "Same eyes, same color hair– but he'd be shorter now. He's an extrovert, and slightly eccentric, pretty irresponsible, to be honest, and a very unpredictable cook. When I was younger he was my best friend." I stopped. It made me depressed to talk about Reese like that, to remember him from before the whole magic thing had torn us apart.

"How old are you, Beau?" Edythe sounded frustrated.

We'd reached Charlize's house and I parked alongside the curb. We didn't get out yet– the rain had really picked up, so heavy now that I could barely see the house. It was like the car was submerged in a vertical river.

"I'm sixteen," I said, a little confused by her tone. "Almost seventeen, though." I couldn't help but add, not bothering to hide the grim satisfaction I felt saying that.

"You don't seem just almost seventeen," Edythe said– it was like an accusation. I couldn't help but laugh, even though I knew it would annoy her. "What?" she demanded, mouth twisted down in an annoyed curve.

"Sorry, sorry," I tried to stop laughing, "it's just, when I was a kid Reese would always say I was born thirty-five years old and that I get more middle-aged every year." I laughed again, and then sighed. "Well, someone had to be the adult." I paused for a second. "So are you going to tell me about your family?" I asked. "It's got to be a much more interesting story than mine."

Edythe was instantly cautious. "What do you want to know?" She asked carefully, gold eyes watching me very carefully.

I hesitated for a minute. "What happened to your parents?" I asked, finally. "Your birth ones, I mean."

"They died before I was Turned." Her tone was matter-of-fact. "The Spanish Influenza, back in 1918."

"I'm sorry." I meant it to.

"I don't really remember them clearly." Edythe sighed. "Christina and Ernest have been my parents for over eight decades now."

"And you love them." It wasn't a question. It was obvious in the way she said their names.

"Yes." She smiled. "I can't imagine two better parents."

"Then you're very lucky."

"I know it."

The rain had slowed slightly, as much as it ever was likely to anyway, so it was time for the mad dash to the house. Edythe beat me, of course, and had the door already open by the time I reached it. I gave her a thankful smile, not bothering to ask how she knew about the spare key under the flowerpot.

In the kitchen I helped myself to a granola bar, while Edythe set up at the kitchen table. Around two hours of intense studying later, I threw down my pen with a groan.

"Okay, I need a break. My brain is fried." I declared. Edythe laughed, the chiming sound bell-like, and set down her pen much more carefully then I had before leaning back slightly in her chair.

"I think we've done enough work for today, Beau," she said, before looking up at me from under her eyelashes. "Want to go upstairs to your bedroom?"

Even though I knew that she didn't mean it like it sounded, I instantly found it hard to breathe, like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.

"My bedroom?" I managed to ask, my words a bit choked. Her answering smile was downright wicked and it did terrible, terrible things to my self-control. "Uh, follow me?" I said weakly.

"Oh, don't worry," she said, standing up in a single graceful movement, "I know where it is."

"That should be way creepier then it is hot." I couldn't help saying.

I followed her up to my room anyway.


	20. Chapter Nineteen:

**CHAPTER NINETEEN:**

I froze in my doorway, stopping walking as my heart started to beat far too quickly in my chest when Edythe actually sat down on my _bloody_ _bed_ , pulling up and crossing her legs.

I stood there in the entranceway of my room looking at her, sitting on my bed all perfect and gorgeous, and thought that maybe I was just hallucinating everything. She then patted the space next to her, a touch impatiently, and I walked unsteadily to the bed and sat down beside her. Moving at human speed, she unfolded her legs and draped them across mine. Then she curled up against my chest with her ear against my heart, which was reacting probably more than was necessary. I folded my arms around her and couldn't help but press my lips to her hair.

"Mmm," she hummed.

"This..." I murmured into her hair, then paused. "I actually don't have any words for this."

"Maybe it doesn't need words." It sounded like she was smiling. She angled her face up, and I felt her nose trace a cold line up the side of my neck. Her arms slid over my shoulders and then wrapped around my neck. She pulled herself up, her lips brushing up the edge of my jaw until they reached my earlobe. "Though I can certainly think of a few." She breathed her cool breath right in my ear.

A tremor ran down my body. Edythe froze, then leaned carefully back. One hand brushed across the skin just under the sleeve of my t-shirt.

"You're cold," she said. I could feel the goose bumps rise under her fingertips.

"I'm fine."

She frowned and climbed back to her original position. My arms weren't willing to let her go. As she slid out of them, my hands stayed on her hips.

"Your whole body is shivering."

"I don't think that's from being cold," I told her. We looked at each other for a second. "I'm not sure what I'm allowed to do," I admitted.

"I'm not sure what I'm capable of doing." She replied. Her hand brushed across my forearm, and I felt goose bumps again. She smiled slightly as she looked down at the bumps on my arm and then was serious. "Your blood smells so different, but still... I wasn't sure at first that I was strong enough..." She lifted my hand and pressed it to her cheek, still looking down. "I thought there was still that possibility that I might be... overcome" – she breathed in the scent at my wrist – "and until I made up my mind that I was strong enough, that there was no possibility at all that I would... that I ever could..."

I'd never seen her struggle so hard for words. It was so human.

"So there's no possibility now?"

She looked up at me finally and smiled. "Mind over matter."

"Sounds easy," I said, grinning so that she knew I was teasing. She laughed quietly.

"I think it would be best, if it is acceptable to you, that you... follow my lead? Is that fair?"

"Of course," I said quickly. "Whatever you want." As usual, I meant that literally.

"It will be harder tomorrow," Edythe sighed. "I've had the scent of you in my head all day. Tomorrow I'll have to start over again."

"Never leave," I suggested.

Her face relaxed into a smile. "That suits me. Bring on the shackles– I am your prisoner." While she spoke, she laced her cold fingers around my wrist like a manacle. I desperately didn't try to think too hard about her words, or her actions, and what they were both doing to me. "And now, if you don't mind, may I borrow a blanket?"

It took me a second. "Oh, um, sure. Here."

I reached behind her with my free hand and snagged the old quilt that was folded over the foot of my bed, then offered it to her. She dropped my wrist, took the blanket and shook it out, then handed it back to me.

"I'd be happier if I knew you were comfortable."

"I'm very comfortable."

"Please?"

Quickly, I threw the quilt over my shoulders like a cloak.

She chuckled quietly. "Not exactly what I was thinking." She was already on her feet, rearranging the blanket over my legs and pulling it all the way up to my shoulders. Before I could understand what she was doing, she had climbed onto my lap again and nestled against my chest. The quilt made a barrier between any place that our skin might touch.

"Better?" she asked.

"I'm not sure about that."

"Good enough?"

"Better than that."

She laughed. I stroked her hair. That seemed careful enough.

"It's so strange," she mused quietly. "You read about something... you hear about it in other people's minds, you watch it happen to them... and it doesn't prepare you even in the slightest for experiencing it yourself. The glory of first love. It's more than I was expecting."

"Much more," I agreed fervently, very carefully not unpacking her words, deciding to wait until I was alone again to marvel over them. _First love_.

"And other emotions, too," Edythe continued, like she hadn't just rocked my entire world. "Jealousy, for example. I thought I understood that one clearly. I've read about it a hundred thousand times, seen actors portray it in a thousand plays and movies, listened to it in the minds around me daily– even felt it myself in a shallow way, wishing I had what I didn't... But I was shocked." She scowled. "Do you remember the day that McKayla asked you to the dance?"

I nodded. "That was the day I publically came out as gay to Forks. And I'm pretty sure that's also when we started talking again."

"I was stunned by the flare of resentment, almost fury, that I felt," Edythe admitted. "I didn't recognize what it was at first. I didn't know jealousy could be so powerful... so painful." She shook her head slightly. "And then the line started forming."

I groaned in remembrance, and she laughed at my reaction. "Jealousy... it's so irrational. And I'm so new at this. You're resurrecting the human in me, and everything feels stronger because it's fresh."

"I'm really not sure I'm the best one example for being human. Not sure if you've noticed, but I tend to struggle with the simpler things we're supposed to do." I pulled a face.

"Like run away from vampires?" Edythe suggested wryly. I laughed.

"I was referring more to eating and sleeping, but that too." Tentatively, I folded my arms around her then rested my chin on her head. I loved the feeling of her in my arms. Still, "Is this okay?" I checked.

"Very." She sighed happily, wriggling slightly in my arms. That did very specific things to my lower anatomy and I stiffened slightly (my body, that is, stiffened– though I couldn't deny certain _other_ parts of me had started to too). Edythe immediately shifted back, looking at me concerned. "Beau?" she asked. "Are you alright?" 

I winced, cheeks going pink. "Fine." I said, a bit breathless. She frowned.

"Are you sure?"

"Yep. Very sure."

"Beau," her voice was vaguely reproachful and I winced again.

"It's not you. Well, it's sort of not you. Um, this definitely isn't a first date sort of conversation to have."

"Technically, I would have said this counts as our... hm, third date now?" Edythe said, looking confused. I saw the moment comprehension dawned, her gold eyes flicking down at my lap for a moment. "Oh," she said. " _Oh_."

"Sorry," I apologised, cheeks reddening further, "um, biological response."

"No, it's fine," she said, pink lips curving up. "I was the one who climbed onto your bed. And then your lap. Though I feel you should know... I don't think sex would be possible between us. Beau, you don't know how... well, fragile you are. I don't mean that as an insult to your manliness, anyone human is fragile to me. I have to mind my actions every moment that we're together so that I don't hurt you. I could kill you quite easily, simply by accident. If I were too hasty... if I were at all distracted, I could reach out, meaning to touch your face, and crush your skull by mistake. You don't realize how incredibly breakable you are. I can never, never afford to lose any kind of control when I'm with you."

Her words really should be having the opposite effect on my anatomy then they were. I really needed to get my head checked out. Though by this point I was certain there wasn't anything Edythe could do that wouldn't have this sort of effect on me.

"I think I could be very distracted by you," she murmured.

"I am never not distracted by you." I said honestly.

"Can I ask you something– something potentially offensive?" She asked carefully.

"Of course."

"Do you have any experience with sex and humans?"

I was a little surprised that my face didn't go hot again. It felt natural to tell her everything. "Not outside of kissing. Which has happened exactly twice. This is... this is pretty much all firsts for me. I've never felt like this about anyone before, not even close." I admitted.

"I know that love and lust don't always keep the same company." Edythe said softly.

"They do for me." I said, my voice just as quiet. "When I was fourteen I went on a date with a girl called Neve. About a week later there were extenuating circumstances." Like flying to the Ministry of Magic on the backs of thestrals to go fight Death Eaters. "During which we kissed. We went on another date after the kiss, but... it didn't work, there wasn't really a spark between us. We're friends still, though, and it works like that for us. And Hermes and I, we were never like that. I... I had feelings, for someone. Very unrequited feelings. So did he. When you add wine to that sort of equation" – thank you, Slughorn– "then kissing can happen. And it did. That was the only time between us though, and it didn't go any further then a bit of semi-drunk snogging."

Edythe was looking at me with an expression I couldn't decipher and I found myself looking for some way to change the subject. "So, you find me distracting?" I managed.

"Indeed." She started smiling again. "Would you like me to tell you the things that distract me?"

"You don't have to." I was pretty sure I wouldn't survive if she did.

"It was your eyes first." She said, anyway. "You have lovely eyes, Beau, like a sky without clouds. I've spent all my life in rainy climates and so I often miss the sky, but not when I'm with you."

"Er, thanks?"

She giggled. "I'm not alone. Nine of your fourteen admirers started with your eyes, too."

"Fourteen!?"

"They're not all so forward as Taylor, Erica and McKayla. And it used to be ten, but then you officially came out. Do you want the list? You have options."

"I think you're making fun of me. And either way, there is no other option." And never would be again. Edythe looked sort of satisfied by that.

"Next it was your arms– I'm very fond of your arms, Beau– this includes your shoulders and hands." She ran her hand down my arm, then back up to my shoulder, and back down to my hand again. "Or maybe it was your chin that was second..." Her fingers touched my face, like she thought I might not know what she meant. "I'm not entirely sure. It all took me quite by surprise when I realized that not only did I find you delicious, but also beautiful."

My face and neck were burning now.

"Oh, and I didn't even mention your hair." Her fingernails combed against my scalp.

"Okay, now I know you're making fun."

"I'm truly not. Did you know your hair is just precisely the same shade as a teak inlaid ceiling in a monastery I once stayed at in... I think it would be Cambodia now?"

"Um, no, I did not."

The sound of the front door, audible even to my human ears through my open bedroom door, thankfully stopped her before she could keep going and I spontaneously combusted from blushing too hard.

"Oh dear." Edythe murmured, her face suddenly strained. "You really _are_ distracting."

"What is it?" I asked, frowning slightly.

"Beau, I'm home!" I heard Charlize call out, at the same time as Edythe said.

"A complication." I was confused for a moment, before Charlize added, still yelling from downstairs,

"And I brought guests! Get down here and say hello!"

This didn't really clear things, but Edythe's face was very strained as she slid off my lap, standing up. I stood up too, and she gave the window of my room an unhappy look. "I suppose I couldn't just leave from here?" She half asked, half said.

"You could," I said, "but your school things are all down on the kitchen table. Charlize will have seen them by now. Also, I'm starting to die from curiosity."

She sighed and gave the window a long look but followed me as I exited my room, heading down the stairs. A discrete check told me that the front of my pants were fine, despite feeling tight.

Downstairs, in the living room, Charlize's face was stretched in a wide smile as she stood next to a woman of a similar age with russet skin. The woman was wearing an old leather jacket and sitting in a wheelchair. Standing just behind the older woman, holding the handles of the wheelchair, was a younger girl, fourteen or maybe fifteen years old I'd guess. She had long, glossy black hair pulled back with a rubber band at the nape of her neck. Her skin was really beautiful, like coppery silk, her dark eyes were wide-set above her high cheekbones, and her lips were curved like a bow in a wide, beaming smile.

"This is Bonnie Black and her daughter Jules," Charlize introduced them, her eyes only widening for a moment when she saw Edythe slightly behind me, "guys this is Beau, and you know Edythe Cullen."

The change of expression on Bonnie Black's face was so startling my jaw almost dropped open. Her eyes went wide, in shock or fear I wasn't sure, and her face and posture turned hostile. As those anxious, intense, hostile eyes met my own, I had absolutely no doubt in my mind– Bonnie knew exactly what Edythe was.

Well, this was certainly a complication all right.


	21. Chapter Twenty:

**CHAPTER TWENTY:**

"Do you want to stay for dinner, Edythe?" Charlize offered, completely ignorant of the death glare plastered on her best friend's face, "we're going to order take-out."

Edythe gave Charlize a dazzlingly polite smile.

"Thank you, Chief Swan, but my parents are expecting me home soon from tutoring Beau."

"Maybe next time then," Charlize smiled welcomingly.

"Maybe next time." Edythe agreed. She didn't hug me goodbye, but her hand reached out to touch mine, lingering for a moment. "Goodbye, Beau. I'll see you tomorrow." She murmured.

"Bye Edythe." I said. I followed her as she easily collected her things from the dining room and made her way to the door, noticing how she was always careful to leave a two-foot radius between her and the Blacks as she did so. In the doorway I paused as I realized she didn't have a lift. Her lips quirked up in amusement and I had to remind myself that she couldn't actually read my mind.

"I'll run back." She said, voice pitched quietly enough that only I could hear. "It's stopped raining."

"If you're sure." I said, peering up at the sky. I couldn't imagine a break in the rain lasting long.

"Don't worry," Edythe said, cheerfully. "I'm the fastest." Before I could ask 'the fastest what?' she had a hand on the back of my head and was tilting my face down so she could kiss me. Her cold lips pressed softly against mine for far too short a moment, and then she was gone.

I was a touch dazed as I walked back into the living room, and it must have shown on my face because Charlize's expression was equal parts knowing and amused, Jules was blushing and Bonnie...

Horror, shock, anger and disgust were just a few of the emotions visibly raging inside her. Not aimed at me, no, although there was a good deal of worry and anxiety directed my way.

"So, what are we ordering for dinner?" I asked, in a purposefully bright and cheery voice.

"What do we feel like?" Charlize responded easily as she made her way over to the television, picking up the remote and turning the TV on, flicking through the channels to find the game.

"Um... pizza?" I suggested, as I couldn't think of any other take-out places in Forks.

"Sounds great!" Charlize's voice was genuinely enthusiastic at the idea and I stepped back slightly, watching as the three women discussed what toppings to order. My eyes kept flicking over to Bonnie, and her back to me. Suddenly, I couldn't wait to figure out a way to be alone with her so we could talk.

I waited impatiently for Charlize to leave the house to go pick up the pizza, and the minute she was out the door I turned to the Blacks. Bonnie must have read the need on my face, or maybe she was just as keen to speak alone with me, because she spoke before even I could.

"Jules, I left the album in the car, the one with all the old photos of you and the twins with Beau. Could you grab it for me?"

"Aw, you brought that?" Jules looked horrified at the thought of impending baby photos but did as Bonnie asked.

I waited until I heard the front door close again before instantly demanding, "What do you know?"

"What do you mean?" Bonnie asked, somewhat evasive, even as her eyes asked me _what do you know?_

"The Cullens– what do you know?" I repeated, unable to hide the tone of urgency in my voice. Bonnie's eyes narrowed, her suspicions confirmed.

"You know about the Cold Ones," she said, slowly and carefully, stating it as a fact, not asking.

"If you mean do I know they're vampires, then yes." I said, impatiently. "The question is how do _you_ know?"

Bonnie's eyes appeared ancient as she looked at me, her face drawn in a tense, serious expression. "How much do you know about the Quileute legends?" she asked.

"Nothing," I admitted easily.

"Then I'll need to start at the beginning." She said then paused, as if thinking, planning her words. When she spoke next, her voice was flat, monotone, like she was repeating something she'd been told many, many times. "There are many legends about where the Quileutes come from. One such legend tells us that we are descended from wolves. And it is correct– that is the true story of our origin." I thought my eyes must be the size of galleons, as I stared at Bonnie. I took a few seconds to go over what she just told me, and then frowned.

"That's interesting and all– and slightly crazy, you have to admit– but I don't see how that relates to the Cullens." I said. Bonnie's eyes were cold as she spoke next.

"The Cold Ones play a role in our true legends, our history. The tales about them, our natural enemies, are as old as the wolf legends. However, there are also ones that are more recent," she paused for a second, her eyes boring into my own, "much more recent."

"The Cullens," I summarized.

"Yes," Bonnie nodded and sighed, "my grandmother, Eyota, met them, and their leader spoke to her. She told my grandmother that their coven was different. They didn't hunt the way others of their kind did– they were not a danger to the tribe. So Eyota made a truce. If the Cold Ones promised not to bite humans and to stay off our lands, then we would not fight them, or expose them to the pale-faces."

"So you know that the Cullens are not a risk," I said, slowly, "that they're not murderers. So why do you look at them like they're monsters? You were looking at Edythe like she was the devil incarnate." I tried not to make my voice sound too accusing. Bonnie's voice was dark, though, as she spoke.

"There's always a risk for humans to be around the Cold Ones, even if they are civilized like the Cullens. You never know when they might get too hungry to resist." There was a thick edge of menace in her tone, and I had to fight not to clench my jaw at her conviction. It wasn't anything I hadn't told myself in the past, but I couldn't help but feel oddly defensive of the Cullen's all the same. Bonnie leaned back on her chair, those old, old eyes of hers still boring into me. "Now it's my turn," she said. "How do you know about the Cold Ones, Beau?"

I bit my lip, trying and failing to think up a believable lie to tell her, but was saved by the sound of Charlize's cruiser pulling up in the driveway. I pounced at the opportunity to get out of answering Bonnie by concentrating on a different issue. "You can't tell Charlize about the Cullens!" I told Bonnie, urgently. "She can't know!"

"I cannot tell her," Bonnie answered, giving me a searching look that clearly told me she realized I was avoiding answering her question, and that she fully intended to demand the answer another time. I immediately started plotting how to make sure I never ended up alone with her again. "We cannot tell the pale-faces about the Cold Ones. It is against the rules of the treaty."

I nodded, relieved, because the thought of Charlize finding out what Edythe and the Cullens were was actually a little bit terrifying.

The sound of someone lightly hitting the door with their foot gave me the opportunity to get away from Bonnie and her questions, and I hurried over to open the front door for Charlize, whose arms were laden with pizza boxes, a disgruntled looking Jules right on her heels. "Ta Beau," Charlize smiled, before she walked into the house.

I heard her strike up a conversation with Bonnie, and the unmistakable sound of beers being popped open. Jules, who had lingered in the doorway, smiled at me, though I could see exasperation on her pretty face.

"Couldn't find the damn album anywhere," she complained lightly. "Pretty sure mom's going crazy in her old age." I grinned at that.

"Her and Charlize both. Come on, forget the album, let's go get something to eat."

Bonnie and Charlize, with remarkable speed, were both already engrossed in the game, beers and pizzas in hand. I smiled at them– well at Charlize anyway– fondly, before ducking into the kitchen and finding plates for Jules and I.

"Here you go," I said to the younger girl, handing over the plate before helping myself to a large slice of cheesy pizza. Jules shyly accepted it, and grabbed several large slices of her own. "Do you want to watch the game?" I asked her, as I balanced my plate on one hand while digging through the fridge with the other. I found two cans of coke and managed to pick them both up, taking advantage of my long fingers.

"Um, only if you want to. I'm not exactly as hardcore as mom and Charlize." Jules admitted. I grinned.

"Me either. How about I grab my laptop from my room and we watch a movie at the table?" I suggested. Jules grinned back at me.

"Yeah, that sounds much better."

It was a long night. After the movie finished, Jules and I went back into the living room where Bonnie kept turning to look at me, so I spent a lot of time avoiding eye-contact. Jules was nice company, a little too eager to please, but still friendly and fun. I was, however, relieved when the game was over, and Bonnie and Charlize said their goodbyes.

"That was fun, Charlize," Bonnie said, even as her eyes flicked over to me, like they had been all night.

"Come up for the next game," Charlize encouraged.

"Sure, sure," Bonnie said. "We'll be here. Have a good night." Her eyes shifted to mine and that smile disappeared. "You take care Beau." Her voice was serious. Stern.

"Thanks," I muttered, looking away. I headed for the stairs while Charlize waved from the doorway.

"Wait, Beau," my mom called back for me. I stopped and tried not to cringe. Dear god, please do not let her say anything about Edythe, I prayed to a deity I didn't even believe in, but desperate times, desperate measures. As I slowly turned back to face her, I could tell by the amused expression my prayers had most certainly not been answered. Sure enough... "So, I know it's been a while, but last I remembered tutoring didn't take place in a bedroom." She said. I could feel my cheeks immediately start heating up.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I feigned ignorance.

"Of course you don't." She said, far too amused. "I think I'll be adding condoms to that grocery list after all."

"Mom!" I spluttered, mortified, my voice practically a squeak as I looked at her in horror. She just laughed, the cruel, cruel woman, and I practically stomped from the room. Her laughter followed me up the stairs as I went to my room, ready to try and tune in to Potterwatch before going off to sleep. If I'd been hoping for good news, though, this turned out to be the wrong move to make.

_"Greetings to all of our listeners. We start today's broadcast with some sad news._

_It is with great regret that we inform our listeners of the murders of the parents of muggleborn Hogwarts student Jenny Stretton._

_"Jenny, a Ravenclaw who would have been in her seventh year this year, is currently missing."_

_"Now people need to_ b _e aware that the Ministry—"_

_"Which means You-Know-Who—"_

_"Are using Dementors to do their dirty work. So far, Dementors have been spotted bringing misery to the Ministry—"_

_"Gloom to Godric's Hollow—"_

_"And even horror to Hogsmeade!"_

_"As you'll know, the only true defense against a Dementor is a Patronus, so we recommend it that you keep practicing casting '_ Expecto Patronum _' so you're ready if the time comes."_

_"Are you giving our listeners homework?"_

_"Better that than a Dementor's Kiss!"_

_"So, that's it for this special edition of_ Potterwatch _. Look after yourself!"_

_"Keep a look-out for Snatchers, keep each other safe, keep faith, and help our girl Harri Potter!"_

I felt sick. Jenny Stretton was a fellow Ravenclaw, one only a year above me. She hadn't returned to Hogwarts this year. I'd hoped she was long gone, had fled Britain. It was both disheartening and sickening to hear about her going missing. Irvine had known her much better then I had, through his older brother Monroe MacDougal, and I winced thinking about how he would be taking the news of her disappearance.

Unsurprisingly, it took me a long time to fall asleep, and my rest was uneasy, filled with indistinct shapes moving in dark, creeping shadows.


End file.
